The Rules of a Good Man
by Kanae Yuna
Summary: Jim's crew has been threatened because of him and he will do anything to protect them. But this time, to save everyone that Jim has ever held dear, Jim will have to give up everything. And it may be more than he can give.
1. Chapter 1: Geronimo

Hey everyone! So this story is kind of, sort of linked to my series of one-shots, _Ingenious Idiot_. You don't really have to read it before you read this story, but it might help a bit because I'm basing the characters' personality, quirks, and pasts off that. For those of you who are my awesome readers and are following this story because you've already read _Ingenious Idiot_, then feel free to skip to the actual chapter. The mystery of who was after Jim in chapter 10 is going to be revealed sooner or later. :) Oh, and to those who read the preview, remember how I said there were chunks missing in them? They're important pieces, so you can just skim through the chapter and read all those parts, if you want, of course.

For those of you who don't want to read it, that's fine. All you really need to know are these key facts to get the way I depicted the characters (particularly Jim):

1) Jim is an absolute genius with boundless talents. Seriously. In my mind, he's like the crazy guy who can do absolutely everything with splendid skill. He's pretty much a ninja physically and he's ridiculously smart. Strategy is his game and he rocks it. He's also had a bit of a rocky past and after Tarsus, he wandered Earth for a while, picking up various skills, such as aerobatics, card tricks, languages, and a numerous amount of martial art skills.

2) Komack is a bit of a jerk in my stories. Kind of. Basically, he likes to use Jim as an undercover agent and throw him into dangerous situations because well, Jim is the best and he can do everything and more. Jim does get out of it after a particular mission in Germany that went sideways by threatening Komack. If you're interested in that story, it's chapters 8 and 9 of _Ingenious Idiot_.

I may list out some more later on as the story progresses. I may have forgotten a few things that I kind of took from _Ingenious Idiot_. If there's any confusion, please let me know in a review or PM and I'll explain it either in an edit or in the beginning of the next chapter.

Meanwhile, for those who reviewed _Ingenious Idiot_ and requested a few things, most of those requests will be included in this. Tarsus will be mentioned, an overprotective crew will be involved, and of course, lots of Jim whump and his brilliant brand of ingenuity, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! As always, please review!

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><p>Disclaimer: I do not own any <em>Star Trek<em> franchise.

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><p><span><strong>The Rules of a Good Man<strong>

_"Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many." - Doctor Who  
><em>

**Chapter 1**

**Geronimo**

All across the universe, there was a single name was synonymous to both hope and destruction. Just a single utterance of it could send shivers of fear down one's spine and yet, uplift spirits when everything seemed lost. The very presence of James Tiberius Kirk swayed worlds, bending logic and reason however he saw fit. Rumors and stories of his extraordinary prowess had spread in the three years that he held the Captain's seat of the famous _Enterprise_ and rapidly, his influence had started to change the universe in ways that could not be fathomed by all but a few.

To many, the young Captain was a shining beacon at the summit of an unreachable mountain, but even the brightest of lights cast shadows, and Jim's were far darker than anyone could have expected. His secrets were buried so deeply that he could count on two hands the amount of people he had told about his turbulent and unforgiving past. His record was far from clean and though the Admirals of Starfleet had turned a blind eye in order to let him take command, he knew that someday, his history was going to come back around to haunt him.

No matter how far he flew or how many lives he saved, he could never escape from the scars of his past.

Sooner or later, he would have to face his worst fears. He could only hope that when it happened, he would be strong enough to make it through it just one more time.

* * *

><p>"Am I awesome or what?" grinned Jim as he settled back comfortably into his Captain's chair as soon as he returned from the most recent mission that had, of course, gone sideways.<p>

The _Enterprise_ had been ordered to negotiate a trade with Nayah – a planet that was being considered as a new addition to the Federation. In his usual flair, Jim managed to get him and Spock arrested within the first day: Jim, because he flirted with the King's daughter (Jim claimed that the _Princess_ flirted with _him_) and Spock, because he tried to protect his Captain.

Jim was still covered from head-to-toe in dirt and grime with Bones hovering next to him with a scowl on his face. The rest of his Command crew was also in a similar state as the grumpy doctor, and with good reason. Sulu and Spock were just as disheveled as Jim, their uniforms torn and scratched and their expressions halfway between exasperation and incredulity. Chekov and Scotty both looked as though Jim made their day (like he usually did) while Uhura was torn between slapping Jim in the face and bashing her own against the wall repeatedly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe that qualifies, Captain," he said, clearly leaning more towards frustration.

Jim laughed, the sound bright and light. "You're just sore because they tried to bury us alive."

McCoy was about to explode. "Because you just couldn't keep it in your pants, could you, dumbass?!" he snapped.

"Hey, I fixed it, didn't I?"

"You wouldn't have been able to if Sulu didn't dig you two out," Uhura commented off-handedly.

"Uhura, you wound me," Jim said dramatically, clutching at his chest right above his heart as his blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Ya tellin' Pike any of this?" asked Scotty, chuckling softly.

"Hell no. He'd just scold me." Jim looked thoughtful for a second. "Well, I might tell him how the Prince is now forever indebted to me after I saved his life."

Chekov bounced in his seat. "I can't beliewe zat you managed to get out in time to sawe ze royal family from a coup."

"I also got knighted for my services," Jim added, but McCoy silenced him with a glare.

"You also almost got your arm blown off for your services, moron. If Spock didn't manage to wrestle the bomb away from you and throw it as far away as he could, you wouldn't even be here right now," the doctor snapped.

"Captain, I still cannot understand how you knew that the Prime Minister was plotting to strike against the royal family. How did you know?" Spock questioned.

Jim shrugged. "Just didn't get a good feeling off him from the beginning, so I followed him around and overheard him talking to some of his goons. I didn't get a chance to tell anyone before I got arrested and buried." The lightheartedness on Jim's face dropped as he looked at the Vulcan with slight anger in his eyes. "By the way, Spock, thanks for having my back, but if you _ever_ try to protect me like you did, I _will _write you up for insubordination. We can't have both of the Command officers taken out at the same time."

"You shouldn't talk, Kirk," Sulu said as he crossed his arms. "Imagine the position _I_ was in. You and Spock were buried in two separate graves. I had to choose who to save first. You think _I _was happy about that?"

"I don't think we ever thanked you for that, did we, Sulu?" Jim cocked his head. "Thanks for saving us. And sorry. But since you dug me out first, I guess that means that I'm more popular than Spock! Yes! I win!"

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's the entire reason why I got you out first. It has nothing to do with the fact that Spock's a Vulcan and probably could have lasted a good few hours longer than you."

Jim pouted. "You ruin all my fun."

"We should really change your definition of 'fun', Kirk," sighed Uhura, turning to look at her console that had just beeped.

"But then you'd all get so bored."

"We'd have normal lives for once," McCoy retorted.

"Exactly, Bones. Exactly. Normal is boring."

"I am sure the Admirals would disagree," Spock said.

"Speaking of, Pike is calling you," Uhura announced, glancing back at Jim and raising an eyebrow at his unruliness. She smirked, knowing full well that Jim was going to have to bullshit his way through Pike's questions. With Jim's sharp mind and wit, that was always amusing to witness.

Jim looked down at his dirty state. There was no time to scramble and hide, least of all from Pike. "Shit. I guess there's no hiding this now. Put him on screen, Uhura. The rest of you, stations."

The crew immediately obeyed just as Pike's elderly face appeared before them.

Instantly, Jim felt his stomach clench. There was a hardened look on his mentor, but Jim could see the fear, panic, and hurt bleeding out.

He plastered a polite smile onto his face and nodded. "Admiral," he greeted. The word felt foreign as it rolled off his tongue; it had been a while since Jim had called Pike by his title.

Pike stiffened at Jim's response, knowing full well that the young man had read his body language and was reacting accordingly. With Jim, it was always strike first before any harm could be done to him. He watched those blue eyes stare at him with wariness and distrust and though it pained him, Pike could only steel himself for the news he was about to dole out. _"Jim, I need to speak to you privately. _Now_."_

His tone bore no argument and the crew felt fear lick at them. Pike had always been someone they could count on and be on their side – he was someone that Jim considered a father-figure, and that alone spoke volumes. For him to suddenly be so cold could only mean that trouble was on the rise.

Jim stood, his movements too controlled. "I'll connect to you from my ready room."

Pike nodded and hung up, leaving silence behind.

By the time the crew turned to stare at Jim in disbelief and confusion, Jim was already gone from the Bridge.

"Any idea what that was about?" Sulu asked Spock.

"None," Spock responded, frowning faintly. "Nyota, can you bring up their feed?"

"Already on it," she said, her fingers moving rapidly at her console. "Here we go…" She pressed a button and suddenly, Jim's and Pike's voices filled the air.

"_Jim, I don't have much time. I'm here with a warning and you're not going to like it."_

"_Just give it me straight, Pike."_

"_Admiral Dreyes has invoked Section 31, Jim. You know what that means, don't you?"_

There was a pregnant pause. _"Yeah…I do…" _Jim said breathlessly. He took a deep breath. _"Give me a sec, Pike. My crew is probably listening in."_

Jim pressed something and then the feed suddenly cut off.

"What the…?" exclaimed Uhura. She started to type frantically, but nothing she did could bring back that ongoing conversation. "Kirk locked us out!"

"Section 31? Vhat is zat?" questioned Chekov, turning to Spock.

Spock was just as baffled as the rest of them. "I was not aware of such a regulation."

Spock, who knew all the regulations from A to Z and backwards to front, didn't know of such an article?! It was like the world was coming to an end. Again.

"Well, shit," swore McCoy.

"Aptly put, Doctor." Spock glanced at the door to the Captain's ready room, unease rising despite his Vulcan heritage. "My sentiments exactly."

* * *

><p>Pike was already onscreen when Jim locked the entrance behind him. Pike didn't waste any time. <em>"Jim, I don't have much time. I'm here with a warning and you're not going to like it."<em>

Jim walked towards his chair and started to pull it out. "Just give it to me straight, Pike."

"_Admiral Dreyes has invoked Section 31, Jim. You know what that means, don't you?"_

Every muscle in Jim's body froze as he realized the true meaning behind Pike's words. "Yeah…I do…" he replied quietly, falling onto his chair. He pulled his PADD that was on the table towards him. "Give me a sec, Pike. My crew is probably listening in."

He opened a program that he had wrote and initiated it. He made sure that it had wiped out any connections Uhura, Chekov, or Spock could have implanted before setting the device back onto the wooden surface. "The rest of this is going to be in private, Pike, so hold nothing back. How the hell does Dreyes have power to utilize me in Starfleet's clandestine service? He's only been in that position for a couple of years!"

"_I don't know how, but Admiral Dreyes got hold of Komack's files on you – the ones regarding your missions under Section 31."_

"Any idea why he wants me?"

"_He was also given the reports of Frank's testimony. He's aware that there may be moles in Starfleet and he's determined to flush them out. He probably wants you because you are the best that Starfleet has ever seen."_

"But if he has Komack's files, he knows that I'm very adamant about staying out of Section 31."

"_I know, but when I refused him, Dreyes made a compelling case to the Admiralty that my judgment regarding your Captaincy is biased because of my closeness to you. I'm temporarily being pulled off your chain of command. You and the _Enterprise_ will be reporting to Dreyes until further notice. It was the only way he could go around my authority and bring you in."_

"And I'm supposed to just I get in line and do what he wants. Shit." Jim ran his fingers through his hair. "So Dreyes knows that there's some underlying plot in Starfleet that wants me, and yet, he's still willing to put me out in the open? Am I bait or something?"

Pike pondered it. _"That is a possibility, but I don't know for sure. Even among the Admirals, Dreyes' motives and actions are not always what they seem."_

"Basically, I'm going in blind with no way out. Goddamn. I thought I was through with Section 31."

"_I did too, son, and I'm sorry I couldn't stop it."_

"You did what you could, Pike. Thanks."

There was a moment of silence before Jim looked back up at Pike. Something akin to sorrow flickered in Jim's blue yes. "You know that Section 31 is going to kill me one day, don't you? One of these times, I won't be coming back," he uttered softly, defeat heavy in his voice.

"_Jim…"_ Pike started.

"You know it's true, Pike, especially after that Germany fiasco. Don't deny it. I know that I can't get out of it as long as I'm under Starfleet's command. If I want my ship and my crew, I have to do what Dreyes wants. I can't run forever. Section 31 never bothered me before in the Academy, but now…" Jim exhaled shakily. "I just…can't do this anymore. Not with my life on the line."

Any other person would have taken Jim's statement as one borne from fear of death, but Pike knew better and he completely understood where Jim's trepidation originated from. _"It's harder when you have people you care about and can't leave behind, isn't it?"_ Pike said quietly.

Jim thought of Bones, Spock, Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and the rest of his crew. He thought of all the laughter, all the tears, and all the hope as they wandered through the vast galaxies. And he couldn't let any of it go. It was the reason why he had gone as far as to threaten Komack to get out of Section 31. He had thought he was in the clear, but he should have known that nothing ever truly went his way. Sooner or later, he would have to face the facts, but he'd be damned if he took it lying down.

"_Are you going to tell them, Jim?"_

Resolve was hard in Jim's eyes. "No."

"_They should know."_

"You know them. After all that shit with Komack, they know that what I'll be doing is going to be extremely dangerous. You think they'll let me go willingly and without a fuss? Just a couple of hours ago, Spock let himself get buried alive alongside me because he tried to protect me. If they do something drastic like that again for me, I don't think even you can save them. They'll all lose more than their commissions for interfering with Section 31."

Jim's PADD suddenly began ringing and Admiral Dreyes' name flashed on the screen. "That's him." He glanced up at his father-like figure. "Pike, I don't know what I'll be doing or where I'll be, but no matter what, you better make sure I have my crew and ship to come back to," he said with all the gusto and confidence that he wished he had.

Pike could hear the solemn promise in Jim's words to try his damnedest to get back to all of them alive. He smiled, _"I promise to protect your family, Jim, so give them hell."_

"Don't I always?" Jim grinned. "I'll talk to ya later, Pike."

"_Be safe, kid."_

Jim swallowed hard and nodded. He touched his PADD and ended Pike's call as he answered Dreyes. The Admiral's face appeared before him. The man was young for his position – just a mere forty-seven years old – having come to power after the whole Nero incident. He was on-planet when the drill had struck and had been horrifically injured trying to save several Cadets from a collapsing building. For his heroic acts, Dreyes was promoted from Captain to Admiral a few days after Jim was given the _Enterprise_.

Now, Jim watched the middle-aged man before him. Dreyes was bald and light-skinned; even the scars maiming his face, like a tiger had scratched him from his left temple to his lower lip, were white. Though his strained posture spoke of years of fatigue and burdens on his shoulders, Jim could see right through his façade. There was such strength and ambition left in the man that it draped and enveloped Dreyes like a cloak. He was smart, cunning, and in the two years he had been in office, he now held a massive amount of power within the Admiralty that it was _frightening_, which made Dreyes a _very_ dangerous contender. It was the whole reason why Jim had tried his hardest to avoid interacting with him up until now, but he had a feeling that this was not the first time Dreyes was interfering with his life.

Jim sat up straighter, clearing all his expression of any emotion. "Admiral," he greeted coldly.

"_Captain Kirk, let's skip the pleasantries, shall we?"_ Dreyes responded in a Manchester, British accent. _"I have recently reviewed all of your missions to date."_

"Any particular reason, sir?"

"_It has been brought to my attention that a great number of your missions result in chaos and unrest. In almost every case, your officers and/or you personally have caused civil wars, diplomatic strife, and needless bloodshed."_

"Sir, have you also noted that my crew and I have successfully completed each and every single mission with good, if not outstanding, results?"

Dreyes went right on as if he didn't even hear Jim. _"Starfleet wants to understand if these events are occurring due to the conditions of the missions itself or due to your leadership. Therefore, we are temporarily bringing the _Enterprise_ back on-base for a two-week shore leave while we determine a satisfactory substitute for you."_

Jim felt his stomach drop out completely. "And what of me, sir? During this _temporary _situation, that is."

"_You will be conducting missions on your own, Kirk, under Section 31. I expect you back in San Francisco in three days. That is all. Dreyes out."_

The screen zipped black. Dreyes' words repeated as if it was a broken record in Jim's mind. He felt numb, still shocked at what had just transpired. And then the weight suddenly sunk in, taking away Jim's breath like someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. Knowing that the idea of Section 31 was going to be met with resilience by Jim, Dreyes had made it so that there was simply no other path that Jim could go. If Jim didn't do as commanded, this 'temporary' situation that was about to happen was going to become permanent. Whoever was taking over for Jim in these few weeks would be there to stay and Jim would lose his ship and worse, his crew.

Fury filled him, consuming him like a wild fire. Dreyes was playing like a fucking marionette – he wasn't someone that Jim could easily bullshit his way through. Dreyes was smart and he knew how to manipulate people almost as well as Jim could. And worse, he had all the power and authority in the world to hold over Jim's head.

There was literally nothing Jim could do but obey Dreyes like a fucking dog.

"ARGH!" he shouted, frustration pouring out like water erupting from a geyser. Without thinking, he grabbed his PADD as he leapt to his feet in one movement, and chucked it across the room. It hit the opposing wall with a resounding crack as it shattered into pieces.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, breathing hard through his nose as he tried to get his rampant emotions under control. Fuck. He was going to lose his ship, his family, and maybe even his life if Dreyes got his way.

Panic swiftly ran through his system and he could feel his hands start to shake even as he tried to force himself to focus. He had to figure this out; he had to play the game and somehow come out the other end victorious. Otherwise, he was going lose everything.

Even Jim couldn't come back from that.

Not again.

* * *

><p>More than half-an-hour later, Jim shut the door firmly behind him and walked back to his chair as if nothing had happened. All of his agitation had been suppressed for the moment, but it threatened to bubble to the surface, exploding like a cork popping out from a champagne bottle. He could feel his crew's eyes on him so he quickly slid on an extra mask, seemingly ignoring their stares as plopped down into his Captain's chair with his usual grace.<p>

"Sulu, plot a course to Earth. Warp speed four," he said as normally as possible. "Oh, and someone get me another PADD please."

Spock and McCoy crowded Jim. "What did Pike want, Jim?" asked McCoy.

Jim shrugged, nonchalant. "He was just giving me a warning."

"Why are we returning to Earth?" Spock questioned. "Orders have not come in yet."

"They will in a few seconds. From Dreyes himself."

"Admiral Dreyes? Not from Admiral Pike?"

"Thank you, Chekov," Jim said as the teenager handed him a new PADD. He immediately started playing on it, launching some program and typing away furiously on it. He was hacking and searching for any loose ends that Dreyes might have left, anything that stuck out.

A minute later, he realized that Spock and McCoy were still waiting on him. They weren't going to leave him alone until he answered them. "We're being temporarily reassigned," Jim said off-handedly.

"Excuse me?!" protested Uhura. She stood and stormed over to Jim, crossing her arms. "What are you talking about, Kirk? Are we losing the _Enterprise_?"

Jim barely managed to suppress his flinch, but he kept his expressions neutral and aloof. That innocuous sentence was raising a sliver of panic within him and it was rapidly growing.

He never took his eyes off his PADD as he replied. "You're not losing the _Enterprise_, promise." He wasn't lying. _They_ weren't going to lose this ship. Him on the other hand…it was a totally different story. "You've been granted a two-week shore leave and then we're being reassigned missions, that's all."

Sulu frowned. "Any particular reason why?"

"None that you'd like to hear."

"And vhat is Section 31?" asked Chekov, swinging around in his chair to look at Jim.

At that, Jim paused, thinking. What was the best possible answer he could give to avoid suspicion? They couldn't know any more of the existence of Section 31 or Dreyes would take action against them. Partial truth it was then. "You remember those missions I did under Komack? Dreyes got a hold of them and decided to review them, so he invoked Section 31."

"I have never heard of such a regulation," said Spock.

"If you had, I would be worried. My missions were conducted under the utmost secret, remember? So the review board must be done covertly too, don't you think? If anyone asks, you still don't know anything about any of this either."

Scotty made his way around to stand right in front of Jim. "Why are ya bein' reviewed, laddie? Sumthin' ya ain't tellin' us?"

"It's nothing to worry about. It's pretty much just a formality – to make sure that I haven't gone to the dark side and all." Jim abruptly shut his PADD off. He couldn't think with his crew nearby; he hadn't quite settled his own panicking feelings yet and couldn't keep his expressions blank anymore.

He stood. "Well, if that's all, I got some reports I have to file. Procrastination and all. Spock, you have the conn. Message me if you guys need me."

Jim patted McCoy's shoulder as he made his way to the turbolift. He flashed them a smile as the doors closed before him, leaving like a whirlwind. His crew was left so dizzy and confused.

"Uh, anyone want to explain what just happened?" asked Sulu.

The rest sat there in silence, except for Scotty who wandered into the Captain's ready room, hoping that it could lead to clues.

"I do not know," Spock crossed his arms. "Doctor?"

McCoy frowned. "Jim hasn't told me anything about Dreyes. He's never even mentioned the man so I didn't think he would cause any problems."

Uhura turned around. "Is he even causing problems? For all we know, he's just covering for Jim."

"The Keptin didn't seem particularly stressed either…" trailed Chekov. "Are ve overthinking zis?"

"It's true – we do tend to get a little bit overprotective and suspicious of Kirk," Sulu agreed. "Maybe, for the first time, it's actually nothing as Kirk says."

There was a loud thud as Scotty emerged from the ready room with a worried look in his face. "Lads, I think we 'ave a problem."

"What is it, Mister Scott?" asked Spock.

Scotty held up the pieces of Jim's broken PADD. "There's sumthin' he ain't tellin' us."

Sulu sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "Well, so much for _that _theory…"

McCoy shook his head. "I'll go see what's going on with him. The rest of you, put a sock in it, alright? If Jim ain't telling us stuff, that means that we can't go about talking about it either, got it?"

He didn't wait for a response before walking straight into the turbolift. As it whirred around him, McCoy took a deep breath. He leaned back and almost sank against the wall of the lift.

Section 31. He was hoping that he would never hear that combined with Jim's name again. Not after the last time when Jim came back clinging to the edge of life.

Fuck. This was not going to end well. For any of them.

* * *

><p>McCoy hesitated for a few moments outside of Jim's door. With Jim, it was always a toss-up on when to confront him. Sometimes, Jim just needed some space and time to simmer down; others, he needed almost immediate physical contact for comfort. His behavior on the Bridge earlier was confusing: he was so aloof and nonchalant that no one could get a proper read on him. Even McCoy wasn't too sure what he could expect from his best friend, but there was only one way to find out.<p>

Leonard knocked on the door. "It's me, Jim."

There was no response, as McCoy expected, but the door chimed as it unlocked. McCoy frowned as he stepped in – Jim being willing was never a good sign.

When it shut behind him, McCoy found himself shrouded in darkness. Not even the usual glint of Jim's numerous PADDs could be seen. It took a moment for McCoy's eyes to adjust to the blackness.

"Before you say anything or start to psychoanalyze me, I let you in because you would've just overridden my code anyway," came Jim's tired voice to McCoy's left.

McCoy knew Jim's quarters like the back of his hand – he probably spent more time in Jim's room than he did in his own. Drawing a mental picture of the location of Jim's furniture, he figured that Jim was more than likely sitting by his desk, which was unusual for him. Bones only ever found Jim on the floor if he was bleeding out and unconscious or if he had a particularly hard puzzle he was mulling over with.

The heavy feeling in Bones' gut sunk more.

"You could've easily overridden my code, Jim. You've done it before," Bones said, his tone completely neutral.

"And then you would've panicked and called in the cavalry. Can't have that, can we?"

Bones sauntered forward and felt for the chair, sitting down with a sigh. The chair creaked as Bones leaned back. There was still no sign of Jim yet.

A moment later, he felt a slight nudge against his leg as Jim shifted. Though Bones couldn't see Jim fully, he could make out the side of his best friend's figure from where he sat on the floor. Jim was leaning against the side of his solid wood desk, no doubt staring into the darkness, thinking and planning.

In the dark, Jim's thoughts were no longer as scattered and he could smother any rising emotions that he had on this matter entirely. Back in the ready room, Jim was filled with anger that he wasn't being given a choice. He was naturally rebellious and the more someone tried to push him into a corner, the more he wanted to fight. Then the realization that he may lose more than he could bear had sent him spiraling down with fear. It was too overwhelming all at once and Jim couldn't even hear himself past the turmoil.

Here, now that he was calmer, lines had started to connect in his mind. The missions and the rumors that he had been keeping an ear out for were all leading to this. He didn't know everything, but he knew enough that whatever was going to happen was revolved around him. That was it. Everything else was shrouded in blackness. He didn't even know what Dreyes motives were – he couldn't even _begin_ to make sense of what Dreyes' plans were, and that made Jim _extremely_ nervous and wary.

Jim rationally knew that Dreyes was not someone that he could fight against easily. There was no telling how much collateral damage there was going to be if Jim did, and he wasn't willing to risk that.

He would have to go back into Section 31 and cover his hands with blood once again. There truly was no other choice, but it didn't stop him from wracking his brain for some other possibility. There was too much red on his ledger already.

"So…Section 31?" Bones ventured. The doctor knew perfectly what Section 31 was, despite his charade on the Bridge. It wasn't something that he could nonchalantly say aloud. Secrets and shadows surrounded the entire organization and Starfleet fully sanctioned its surreptitious nature, protecting it with a giant stick that threatened anyone who know if its existence. When Bones learned of it (by accident because Jim had just come back brutally injured from a mission and wasn't allowed to go to a hospital for treatment), he was sworn to secrecy by pain of death, exile, or whatever the hell Starfleet deemed a horrible punishment. So yes, Bones knew about Section 31, but most importantly, he knew what it meant for Jim.

"Yeah."

"Komack still in charge of it?"

"Nope. Dreyes is."

"I still have clearance?"

"Probably not."

"So what's really going on?"

There was a moment of silence as Jim debated on what to tell his best friend. In the end, this was the time for honesty. Sooner or later, Bones would figure this whole thing out and give him those disappointing and hurt eyes that Jim never could bear. It was easier to just rip off the bandage in one go – minimize all the pain at once.

Jim sighed resignedly. "I'm being pulled back."

Bones felt like the floor had disappeared from below him. "When?" he breathed,

"As soon as we dock."

"If he's trying to keep this inconspicuous, he's not doing a good job with it. What the hell is Dreyes thinking?!"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"What did he say exactly?"

"That our missions are too wild and he wants to figure out why shit hits the fan almost every single time. He's saying that it's because of my leadership as an excuse to pull me away from the _Enterprise_."

"You know why?"

"I can only think of two scenarios. One: there's something going down and they need me, so they can't afford me to weasel my way out. The second is that Dreyes has something against me and is using Section 31 to get rid of me once and for all."

"Which one are you leaning towards?"

"Don't know. The second one? But I can't think of anything that I've done to piss Dreyes off."

"What are you going to do?"

Bones heard a thud as Jim presumably hit the back of his head against the wood. He heard an exhale. "I don't know…"

It was the most unsure Bones had ever heard Jim before, and that unnerved him. Jim Kirk was never unsure. Jim Kirk was always confident in himself, no matter the circumstances. "Jim?"

"Any way I play this out in my head, I lose so much."

The scenarios flittered behind the back of Jim's eyelids like a movie screen: each choice leading to another path branching off to another. If he agreed, Dreyes would have complete control over him and though he may have the _Enterprise _and his crew, he wasn't sure if he could live under someone else's thumb again. Not after Frank and certainly not after Kodos. But if he disagreed and fought, Jim had no doubt that Dreyes would not only take away his ship, he would also take out his anger on his family.

Jim knew exactly what he had to do. The problem was: he had gotten soft. The love of his friends had made him cautious – more wary for his life because he now had something to live for. He had tried to push his crew away and though they did give him space when he asked for it, it erased none of their past or their bonds of friendship.

Back when he was in the Academy, he had nothing to lose, nothing to fear. Though he wasn't quite as strong as he was when he was J.T. on Tarsus IV, he was still a force to be reckoned with. Now? He had gotten complacent; he could barely feel the blood on his hands anymore. He should've known that he was never going to escape; he was never going to catch a break. Blood, chaos, and misery always followed him.

And damn was he tired of it. Tired of all the havoc, all the grief that he was ever a part of, and even worse, of those that he had caused. He was tired of all that he had lost and all that he would and could lose.

"I'd rather leave than be left behind…" he murmured tiredly. He couldn't help it. He was only human. After all that had happened in his past, who could fault him for being selfish? He was more than ready to just give up, regardless of the consequences.

"What was that?" asked McCoy. "I didn't hear that."

Jim almost forgot that Bones was there. "Nothing. It was nothing…"

He peered through the dark to glance at Bones. With his perceptive vision, he could barely make out the intense lines of concern on Bones' face; the jitteriness of his bouncing leg and his clenched fists. Bones was just bursting with worry and questions for his best friend, but he was holding it back because he cared far more for Jim's wellbeing than for answers itself. Because Bones was unconditionally and unequivocally Jim's best friend and brother, and he always would be.

And then Jim was reminded all over again why – no, _who_ – he was fighting for in the first place. It didn't matter how dirty Jim got or how broken Jim would become, his friends would never leave him or let him leave. They were family, which meant that Jim couldn't just leave this be.

If Dreyes wanted to Jim to play, fine, he would. But he sure as hell was going to make Dreyes regret it.

His resolve hardened and all fears and indecisiveness faded away. He smiled, despite himself. "It's nothing, Bones. Just saying that I think I have a plan now."

"You sharing?"

"If I told you, it'd spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?" Jim joked, getting to his feet. He patted McCoy on the shoulder and trotted to his closet, pulling off his gold uniform and stripping down to the black wife-beater he wore underneath. "I'm going to go workout for a bit, blow off some steam. We good?"

"Depends. You good?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"You're not doing anything dangerous, are you, Jim?"

"Even if I was, do you think I could tell you, Bones?"

"And that's what worries me."

"Relax, Bones. We'll be back on Earth in like two days. Go see Joanna while you're on leave."

Bones got up and came up quietly to stand directly behind Jim, who stiffened minutely out of nervousness, like a rabbit caught out in an open field with nowhere to run. "Jim, I know that you're entitled to your own secrets and you clearly don't want to talk about it, so I'll respect that, but can you just tell me that you'll be alright? And I want the truth or nothing, Jim. The truth. You owe me that much."

Jim thought about what he was about to do: he was going to throw himself into the throes of the unknown that was fraught with dangers, with no plan and no backup. He had to, otherwise he would never figure out what the hell was actually going on, and if he didn't know, he couldn't protect the people that had somehow become so very precious to him.

So he turned and smiled at Bones even though he _knew_ that Bones could tell when he was lying through his teeth. "You'll be fine, Bones, don't worry."

"I wasn't asking about _me_, Jim, and you know it."

Jim didn't even hesitate. "Fine then. I'll be okay, Bones." He leaned over to reach the bed behind Bones and grabbed a small towel. He patted Bones' shoulder as he headed out. "I'll catch ya later."

He was illuminated in a bright light for a brief moment as his door opened and Bones could see every tense muscle in his back and neck – his toned deltoids and triceps were taut with stress. How heavy of a burden was sitting on Jim's shoulders? It looked as though the whole damn world was weighing the kid down. And then Bones was drowned in the darkness once again as Jim stepped away and let the door shut behind him.

Bones sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, worry eating away at his insides. "Rule number one: Jim lies," he recited quietly.

There was a flash of memory of Jim grinning at him, so bright and so cheerful, over a beer. He couldn't even remember what they had been laughing about, but all he could recall was Jim clapping him on the shoulder and saying, _"Number one rule of knowing me is that I lie. All the damn time."_

"_Yeah?"_ Bones had chuckled. _"Got a rule for everything?"_

"_Pretty much. Stick around and maybe you'll learn them all."_

"_How many you got?"_

"_Enough to last you two lifetimes."_

"_Sounds like a lot of work. I think I'll pass."_

Jim had laughed. _"Yeah, I would too, if I were you."_

"_So what's rule number thirty-four?"_

"_You pull that number out of your ass?"_

"_You gonna pull a random rule outta yours?"_

Jim had chortled, but answered anyway._ "Rule number thirty-four is never trust the brass. They always got something up their sleeve. They're always out for themselves and it's the people down here who suffer."_

His words at that time had been ludicrous, considering that Jim was on the Command track, but now it seemed strangely prophetic.

He pulled out his communicator and comm'ed Spock.

"_Spock here."_

"Spock, it's McCoy. Can you do me a favor and dig up everything you can on Dreyes?"

"_Do you suspect something, Doctor?"_

"Not yet, but rule number thirty-four and all."

There was a pause as Spock realized to what McCoy was referring to. _"Understood. I will be as discrete as possible. For now, please keep a watchful eye on Jim. If he is in fact reverting to his own set of rules, then perhaps he may be more prone to spontaneous and crass decisions."_

"Got it."

"_Good luck, Doctor."_

"Yeah, yeah. You too. McCoy out," he grouched as he hung up.

He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders as he prepared to follow his best friend to the ends of the universe.

"Well, here goes nothing. Geronimo."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>I know this was short, but I'm building it up. I've got this entire story planned out and written out in my head, but not on paper, so updates will be sporadic. I'll update as soon as I have the next chapters typed out and stuff. Reviews always help encourage me! *wink wink, nudge nudge*<p>

Oh, and to those who may or may not have seen the Doctor Who references: yes, that was on purpose. I love Matt Smith and I'm so upset that he's no longer going to be the Doctor, so this is kind of, somewhat a tribute to him. It's mostly just because I fell in love with the whole quote of: "The anger of a good man is not a problem. They have too many rules." followed by: "Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many." Gives me chills every time I read it and I have no idea why, lol! In fact, this whole entire story started forming in my head after that episode of _Doctor Who_ on that quote alone. It was brilliant...and add on to the fact that I'm a little bit crazy and out pops this one. I'm nuts, but oh well. C'est le vie.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! There will be more to come. :)

Thanks for reading and please review!

~ Kanae Yuna


	2. Chapter 2: The End of the Road

**Chapter 2**

**The End of the Road**

James T. Kirk had a rule for everything. It was almost ridiculous how many rules he had. Randomly and seemingly without reason, Jim would spit one out like it was second nature. Most were mundane and harmless, like not eating an apple after two in the afternoon (rule number twenty-eight). Others were integrated into his Captaincy, such as never going anywhere without a knife (rule number 7). That particular rule had saved him and his crew several times. Some rules he picked up from various people, but most from experience, gathering in the years with Frank and under Kodos' reign.

Jim had so many rules that his friends had compiled a list just for entertainment. Jim would smile and give them more, but he never explained why he kept all these rules even when he was forced to pay attention to Starfleet's regulations. His rules, when he chose to revert to them, saved lives and often turned the tides on a mission that was rapidly failing.

Jim and his rules. It was just another enigma that no one could answer, but one thing his crew could say was that when Jim started quoting his rules, it meant that trouble was stirring. It meant that someone needed saving.

So when McCoy told the crew that Jim cited rule number thirty-four, all of them unconsciously began to prepare themselves for a battle. But _nothing_ could have prepared them for what was in store for them.

In the three days it took for the _Enterprise _to reach the dock at San Francisco, Jim seemed to be all over the place. Their Captain spent some of his time hidden away in his quarters or training vigorously in the gym. Any time he was on the Bridge or merely walking through the halls, Jim's face was usually buried into a PADD. When inquired by passing crewmembers what he was doing, Jim would just grin and joke, saying that he had procrastinated a bit too much and he needed to get things finished before they docked.

His interactions with his command crew were no different though, oddly enough. Jim laughed and bantered like always. When seen in McCoy's company, he usually had an arm around the doctor's shoulders. With Chekov, the two often had their heads put together, whispering and scheming until Spock or McCoy ruined their fun. Sulu sparred with Jim, the former noting the intensity and vigor of Jim's workout, as if he was trying to become so much stronger in a short amount of time. Jim didn't dare to cross the line with Uhura, like always, but he still couldn't help his cheekiness. His shenanigans with Scotty were kept in secret (for obvious reasons. It _was_ against regulations to have Romulan ale onboard the ship.) Spock and he talked about science, each picking the other's brain for their brilliance.

Despite how often Jim hid away to work, he made time for his friends, savoring each second like a decadent piece of chocolate that was rapidly disappearing. It was unprecedented, making it obvious that something had happened. The tension among the command crew was so high that it could cut the air. When they thought no one was looking, they would glance at Jim with such worry and such weariness that it made everyone else nervous.

But Jim never let on if he was nervous or perturbed about anything. That was until the _Enterprise_ docked in San Francisco. Within seconds of parking, Jim's communicator was beeping. A hardened look spread across Jim's face. His jaws were grit tightly and his body subconsciously changed, making him seem more formidable and dangerous – frightening even, and that adjective was not usually placed in the same sentence as Jim Kirk's name, at least not in front of his crew.

Jim glanced at the message on his communicator and stood. A grey tint entered his usually vibrant blue eyes and suddenly, Jim wasn't their Captain anymore. He looked more like a man going to war, but Jim didn't even give them time to question him. He passed the conn to Spock as he turned and left, completely dropping off the grid for the next two weeks.

All that was left of Jim was his neatly folded gold Captain's uniform placed carefully on his bed and a small piece of paper with a single word scrawled on it:

_Sorry._

But for what, the crew didn't know.

* * *

><p>Dreyes' office was as dull and dreary as Jim had expected. Like Pike's, it was completely white with an entire wall composed of glass windows. There weren't any decorations; the room was armed with just the bare essentials: a desk, chair, and lamp. Most Admirals had bookshelves filled with theory, facts, philosophy. Achievements generally hung on the wall in frames – perfectly straight and perfectly kempt. Dreyes had none of that. Even his furniture was plain; there was nothing on Dreye's normal desk except organizers and documents. Everything was kept in an orderly fashion and kept so unusually, sparkling clean, as if Dreyes suffered from an obsessive compulsive disorder, but Jim could see past that.<p>

Having nothing on the walls meant that Dreyes did not care for fame or glory; he cared about law and order and that he was doing what he thought was right, regardless of what anyone said or did. If Jim wanted to go one step further, he could even say that Dreyes never looked to the past – only forwards. The cleanliness of his office meant that Dreyes was thorough and never overlooked any detail, no matter how small. He was meticulous and careful – always thinking three or more steps ahead of anyone and never showing emotions easily. Feelings could be manipulated by others and used as a weapon – Dreyes understood that fully and kept up a front. Even Jim could not tell the depth of his barriers. While Jim hid behind smiles and sarcasm, Dreyes used coldness and intimidation to maintain a distance as he read and analyzed each and every single person he would ever meet.

He was just like a cynical and bitterer older version of Jim. Jim didn't quite know how he felt about that because for all that Jim disliked about Dreyes, Jim couldn't help but think that the Admiral was admirable. He wasn't swayed by politics or by greed. All that he did and all that he commanded was for the greater good. He knew how to balance the scales – to choose the lesser of two evils when there was no other choice, but he had a great capacity for compassion. No matter what was on the line – money, fame, or power – Dreyes would always choose the path that would save more lives. He was strong in his convictions and he had no doubt saved thousands, if not millions of lives.

Jim couldn't condone Dreye's actions, but it didn't mean that Jim had to be happy about being dragged back into Section 31. It was getting harder and harder for him to delve into the shadows without behind recognized now, which meant that the danger was increasing exponentially.

The thought of that sent a shiver of anger through him again and he straightened, showing no weaknesses as he stood before Dreyes.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Jim said, keeping his tone neutral.

Dreyes glanced up, his brown eyes piercing through Jim's soul. "Do you know why I called you here?"

"To review the _Enterprise's _mission and determine whether or not my leadership is questionable," Jim dutifully recited.

The Admiral just leveled a look at Jim. "I know you're smarter than you let on, Kirk. You know the _real_ reason I asked you here."

At that, Jim leaned back, his mind turning. The changes were minute, but the harsh lines on Dreyes' face had softened and there was genuine interest in his wise eyes. Suddenly, Jim was reminded of his first encounter with Pike – he had the same initial and bitter impression of his father-figure, and look where he and Pike were now. Jim didn't know whether or not he felt angry that he had been stewing over nothing for three days or relieved that Dreyes didn't seem to be out for him. Maybe.

Jim let his posture become more relaxed – confident, even. He was still wary, but he wasn't willing to let it cloud his mind anymore. He shrugged as he answered Dreyes' question, keeping it short and vague. "I'm a wanted man."

"Yes, you are. I'm going to get straight to point Kirk. My time is valuable."

"As is mine," Jim shot back, unable to hold himself back.

There was a tightening in Dreyes' jaw as he bit back his rising irritation at the young Captain. "There's been a breach in Starfleet, Kirk."

"I'm aware. My step-father told me when he had me tied up and drugged," Jim retorted sarcastically. "I assume that's the reason for the overly threatening method that you used to ground me and my ship?"

"I don't know how far we've been compromised. Lines may not be secure anymore. We needed to meet face-to-face for this conversation."

It made sense. Dreyes had to come up with some bullshit to bring the _Enterprise_ back on Earth, but in a way that didn't raise any flags to indicate that Jim and Dreyes were fully conscious of what was growing in the shadows deep within Starfleet. The fact that Dreyes had called Jim back meant that there was more that Jim hadn't been able to find on his own.

"So what _do_ you know? You have eyes and ears everywhere, Dreyes. You should know something."

"It's nothing that you don't already know, Kirk. Don't think I haven't noticed your fingerprints in our system again. Keep them out."

"I will if you tell me what the hell is going on here."

Dreyes folded his hands onto the desk, giving Jim a hard and serious look. "There is a group within Starfleet that has risen out of hatred of you. We don't know who is a part of this, but they pose a great danger. One word, one wrong move, and Starfleet's reputation can be irreparably damaged. With all that has happened with Nero, Starfleet cannot afford any bad publicity anymore."

Jim crossed his arms defensively. "It's worse because this entire situation is revolved around me, am I right?"

Dreyes nodded slowly. "Your past is not exactly light reading, Kirk. Starfleet has buried most of it, at your request, but it is not lost. It can be found, even with your hacking skills, and I believe that it has been found."

That shocked Jim. "If someone can undo what I did years ago, that takes tremendous skill."

"Exactly. It means that the perpetrator has skills that are comparable to yours, and to Starfleet, that is _terrifying_."

"And you need me to deal with someone of that caliber," Jim filled in. "That's why you're pulling me back into Section 31."

"We need you to act as bait. You will go underground and start flushing out the rats until we get a name. You report to me and only me. I know you're close with Pike, but this is to be kept in utmost secrecy. The less people who know, the less of a chance that you will be discovered."

"What if I don't want to? My last mission didn't end well, remember?"

"I can understand that. I'm not quite as big of a bastard as you think I am, Kirk. I _am_ giving you a choice. Just know that if you do not do this, sooner or later, it will catch up to you. When it does, it will not only be you in danger, but your crew as well. It is well known that you are extremely protective of your crew. Can you stand letting them come to harm?"

Jim fell silent, something caught in his throat. Dreyes knew exactly which pressure points to push; Jim couldn't say no when his crew was involved. Damn it, he had been so severely compromised by his useless and unnecessary attachment to his friends. And the worst part was that even though he knew the dangers of caring, he didn't regret anything at all.

"I will take that as an acceptance to this mission then," Dreyes said. "Don't worry, Kirk. I will do all that I can to make sure that your crew will be safe."

"How?" demanded Jim, his head jerking up. His eyes narrowed in anger. "You said that you didn't know who was involved. They are _my_ crew. That alone puts them in great danger. How can you _possibly_ keep them safer than if they were with me?"

"They cannot be in danger if they are away from the epicenter, can they?"

"What are you talking about?"

"If the _Enterprise_ is off-planet, they cannot be involved in the battle revolved around you that is to come. I will be assigning a protégé of mine to your ship and he will be taking your crew to Zenobia where they will be cared for by his family in the government."

"Why not send Pike in my place? Why bring in someone entirely new?"

"Sending an Admiral out into the field when a Captain is readily available will raise red flags. We cannot risk that."

"Then I at least demand to meet this 'protégé' of yours first," Jim countered hotly. "I should get a say in who takes my place when I'm running for my life."

Dreyes' eyes flashed in anger. Clearly, the Admiral did not take well to disrespect, but Jim cared little about it. This _was _his family and crew that they were talking about. Jim had every right to be difficult.

"You don't get to dictate the terms here, Kirk. I'm already being lenient as it is," Dreyes warned carefully.

"You're the one forcing me into a corner, Dreyes," Jim snarled back. "It seems to me like I'm just dancing to your every command. I mean, why are you acting now? You knew about this shit for several months! Have you just been sitting on your ass waiting for me to screw up?"

"Do not forget that you're a Starfleet officer, Kirk!" Dreyes roared, standing to his full height. "You signed your life away to the Federation! What makes you think that you have a choice in anything anymore?!"

Jim leapt to his feet, feral. "Don't give me that shit, Dreyes. How much do you think Starfleet has taken from me?! I'm not here for you or the fucking Federation. I can leave whenever I want, and I'm your _best_ operative. You think Starfleet's going to be pleased that you just let me walk out the fucking door?"

"Are you threatening me?!"

"Are you threatening _me_, Dreyes? Because you've read my files. I don't take well to threats, especially ones that will affect _my _people, _my _crew." Jim took a deep breath, calming his tone. "As you said, I'm a smart guy, Dreyes. I know how this has to pan out; I'm not refusing your orders. You know that I can't, not at this juncture, which is what I expect you were waiting for. All I'm asking for is that my crew be taken care of. I'm not letting them come to harm, Dreyes. If I have to break cover and tear apart the entire Federation to keep them safe, I will."

A strained silence fell as Dreyes considered Jim's words. Slowly, he sat back down. "Fine. You can choose your replacement."

Watching Dreyes carefully, Jim sat back down too, his back tense and straight. "There's no need for one. Spock is more than capable of leading my ship."

"That will be too obvious. We do not know how long your solo mission will take and having your First Officer take command for an extended period will raise suspicion. Having a substitute can deter any wandering eyes." Dreyes raised an eyebrow at Jim. "If you don't have any ideas, I can offer suggestions."

Jim glared at Dreyes. The damn bastard just knew that Jim didn't interact with any other officer except for his crew and the Admirals.

"My protégé, Commander Royce Wolff is due for a promotion. Leading the _Enterprise_ will be a good test of his skills. If you wish, I can call him here now for you to meet him."

Royce Wolff. Jim had heard that name before. He was in the Academy at the same time as Jim was. The young man was about two years ahead of Jim in the harsh Command track and six years older in age. He was ambitious and from what Jim gathered, a good man in general. Unlike Jim who had an infamous reputation, Wolff was always a gentleman. He wasn't quite as bright as Jim or as talented when it came to physical prowess, but he was efficient and obedient. A perfect soldier that Jim could never be.

"Even if I refuse him, you would still choose him, wouldn't you?" Jim said, forming his question into a statement.

"Unless you can call on another qualified individual, of course," Dreyes returned pointedly. "It shouldn't take long for him to arrive. We have an appointment in five minutes."

"I assume you're going to tell me the parameters of my mission in that time?"

"The premise of your mission is simple, Kirk." Dreyes slid a folder full of pictures and documents on the table towards Jim. "Find the traitors before they get you. I shouldn't have to tell you that discretion is of the utmost importance here, Kirk. The world cannot know that Starfleet has a cancer growing in them."

Jim quietly flipped through the documents, skimming through the words. "There's not much here to go off of, Dreyes."

"And that's why your skill set is needed. We tried deploying others before you, but all of them disappeared without a trace. What you have is what our agents traded their lives for, Kirk. Make good use of them."

There was a knock on the door and Dreyes waited until Jim slyly tucked the file into the back of his pants, pulling his golden uniform over it to shield it from sight, before he said, "Come in."

A young man wearing the standard, grey Starfleet uniform stepped in. He was of German descent and was just barely into his thirties. His brown hair was cropped short and gelled to a slight spike at his forehead. He had large, brown eyes and a small nose, making him seem slightly disproportional, even more so by his body. He was by no means short; he was of average height, but he clearly worked out often and the bulkiness of his arms and torso made the rest of his body small.

"I apologize, Admiral Dreyes. I didn't realize that you had company," he said politely.

"Commander Wolff, this is Captain James T. Kirk. Kirk, this is Royce Wolff," Dreyes introduced them.

A smile lit up on Wolff's face and he rushed forward to shake Jim's hand. "Captain Kirk! It is such an honor to meet you in person! I mean, I met you when we were in the Academy. I think we had a couple of classes together, but I haven't seen you since your graduation ceremony!"

Jim gritted his teeth and flashed a smile at Wolff. "It's nice to see you again, Wolff."

"Royce, please. Or Roy if you prefer."

Jim chuckled, trying to pull his hand away surreptitiously, but failing. "Eager fellow, aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Wolff stepped back so quickly, like he had been burned by Jim.

Jim shook his head as he stood, moving so that the file didn't make single sound. "Don't worry about it, Wolff."

"I just want to say that I'm so honored to be onboard the _Enterprise. _I hope to continue in your footsteps, Captain."

"So Dreyes already told you," said Jim, his smile becoming slightly strained as he glared at Dreyes. "Take care of my ship, Wolff. Don't scratch her."

"I won't. I promise to do my best."

Jim nodded before turning his attention back to Dreyes again. "Well then, Dreyes, I take my leave now. If you need me, I'm sure you can figure out how to contact me."

"Good luck, Kirk."

"Remember our agreement, Dreyes. I won't hesitate if anything happens." Jim didn't finish his threat and left with it hanging, but Dreyes knew full well what Jim was referring to.

If anything happened to the _Enterprise_, Jim would bring the world to its knees.

He glanced at Wolff who was excitedly talking to Dreyes about Kirk and how amazing the young Captain was in real life. Wolff kept rambling, like a star-struck fool.

He couldn't help but sigh. If he didn't want Kirk to go on a rampage, he had better make sure that Wolff was ready to do anything to protect Kirk's crew.

And who knew how long that was going to take?

More importantly, how long did they even have before shit hit the fan?

* * *

><p>In the couple of years that Jim had commandeered the <em>Enterprise<em>, Jim never once thought that he would have to sneak onto her. It was a little disorienting and disheartening to say the least. With most of his crew already on shore, it was easy for Jim to navigate through the halls unnoticed, like the ghost he was about to become. He avoided the hallways that he knew had cameras and on those that he simply couldn't avoid, he stuck to the blind spots. Treading softly, he quietly made his way to his quarters and let the doors close behind him.

His eyes roamed over his room. He remembered how it was when he had just started on the _Enterprise_. All he had to his name was a few uniforms and a duffel bag full of his civvies. His quarters were empty except for what Starfleet had placed into his quarters and Jim never had the intention to decorate it.

Now, there were trinkets placed carefully throughout his room. There was a framed photo of him, Bones, and Joanna on his bedside dresser. The three of them had such warm smiles, especially Bones, who only ever flashed that sort of soft, happy smile around his daughter and Jim when they were alone. It was one of the fondest memories Jim had of his best friend and his unofficial goddaughter and it was the only picture Jim actually owned. It was the only picture Jim had ever kept in his entire life.

A worn-out stuffed rabbit sat in its own shelf on his bookshelf. Jim could still remember Chekov shoving the rabbit – a memento from his childhood – to Jim soon after the whole de-aging incident. He had been horrified when Jim accidentally let slip that he had never owned anything precious that he carried around with him through the years. The rabbit was Chekov's most prized possession and he still gave it to Jim because he said that Jim needed it more than he did now. Jim didn't quite know what to say to that, so he took it wordlessly with a touched smile and gently placed it into his room.

Beside the rabbit (Chekov had called it Yuri), was a first edition of _The Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers_, by J.R.R. Tolkien. That had been a gift from Sulu after the whole Shelob event. Days after, Jim and Sulu would still crack up about the giant spider and the origin of its name. Often, they would be seen having philosophical debates regarding the series, trying to see who was the nerdier of the two. Finally, Sulu admitted to having all four books in paperback – first edition – and won with a landslide. He gave the novel to Jim during a Christmas, knowing full well that Jim had a soft spot for paperbacks but still didn't own any. Jim refused at first, not wanting to break Sulu's set apart, but Sulu just smiled at him and said that he wasn't. As long as they were together, the set would still be complete. Jim had to run from Sulu after that, unable to take the emotion anymore, but not before thanking Sulu in a quiet and touched voice.

Sitting on a shelf below the rabbit and book was an old, well-played chess set that Spock had given him. The Vulcan had one day discovered that Jim played often when he was a kid. Curious, Spock had challenged Jim to a match and was shocked to discover that Jim was _good_. In fact, Jim barely won their first game. Spock had found Jim's unpredictability a delight and would often come over in the evenings to play. The two had bonded from the experience, each sharing bits of themselves until one day, they were almost as close as Jim was to Bones. It was in one of these games that Jim found out that this chess set was given to Spock by his mother – one of the few mementos Spock had left of her. When, one day, Spock refused to bring it back to his room, stating that it was more logical to keep it in one place so that it could be conveniently brought out, Jim couldn't do anything more than take good care of it. He understood the depths of Spock's intentions when he entrusted the chess set to Jim, and it made his chest tighten in a good way.

Jim brushed his fingers over the wooden bishop and came to a stop next to his guitar. Uhura had bought it for him when she found out that he could play. The sneaky girl had been hacking into the communication systems around the ship and heard him strumming his old guitar in an observation deck. (That guitar had sadly perished after a drunken night with Scotty.) She had never let on the inclination that she had heard him or that she even knew of this particular skill until one day, she just thrust a new guitar towards him and asked if he could play "The House of the Rising Sun" by the Animals. It was such an old song and one that Jim had loved when he was a kid in Iowa. He wasn't sure if he was more shocked at the fact that Uhura knew of that song or that she was giving him a guitar. He nodded and they settled into his quarters, Uhura sitting at his feet as he serenaded her. She smiled and kissed his cheek before she left, thanking him. She returned several more times, drowning herself into music that reminded her of the family she had left behind on Earth.

Reaching his desk, Jim touched the small wooden sculpture that was carefully place by his light. It was a small tree about six inches high with its branches stretching out from its trunk. Scotty had explained that it was the Celtic symbol for the Tree of Life. He had carved it for Jim, saying that he hoped that Jim would set his roots with them, even as his branches reached towards the heavens. Jim hadn't even had a single drop of alcohol in his system when Scotty gave it to him, so when his throat was thick with emotion, Jim had to blame something in the air. Scotty just gave him a knowing grin and walked off, whistling happily. For the Scot, it was more than enough that Jim had accepted the small token of friendship, even if Jim still hadn't figured out why he deserved such a thing.

For the first time in his life, Jim had things that were precious to him – he had things that he wanted to take with him. For the first time, he had something that he couldn't bear to leave behind. Even as he packed his belongings, he kept staring longingly at them, wishing that he could put even just one of them into his bag, but he couldn't touch them. Not now. Not with what he had to do. It had to be enough for him for all of these things to wait for him to return.

Sadly and almost hesitantly, Jim peeled off his golden uniform, folding it and gently laid it down onto his bed. He lovingly placed his note onto it, brushing his fingers against his uniform one last time before snatching his hand away. He couldn't indulge himself anymore. Hardening his expressions, Jim shouldered his duffel bag that was filled with his civvies and left his home without a single look back.

It wouldn't be until the next morning when Bones discovered his note. Minutes after, the rest of his crew would be out combing San Francisco for him, but Jim was long gone, disappearing into a world of shadows and treachery.

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Days Later.<strong>

The cold rain pattered on the tin slanted roof of a tall building. Breath fogged with every exhale as Jim pressed himself lower onto the surface, his finger curled around the trigger of a sniper rifle. His hood of his black zip-up jacket had been pulled forward, shielding his eyes from the dripping water. A blue eye peered through the scope, zeroing in on a slender man with medium-long brown hair standing by the window of the building a hundred meters away from where Jim was positioned.

His target was shouting and waving angrily at another man – blonde and rotund. Jim steadied himself and exhaled. His finger pulled and a loud bang ricocheted through the silent air. The brunette fell to the ground, dead, with a bullet hole through the center of his forehead. The blonde's mouth was open in a scream that Jim couldn't hear and he frantically ran out of sight.

Jim wasted no time and grabbed his rifle, shoving it into long bag fully assembled. There was no time to take it apart. He shouldered it and sprinted to the right edge of the roof. He jumped, leaping the small gap to land light on his feet onto the adjacent building. Without pausing, he kept going until he ran out of room to run. He paused briefly to turn around and drop himself off the roof, grabbing the storm drain as he did. His gloved hands allowed swift descent into the alley below. The second his feet landed, he swiftly and quietly ran forward, his feet avoiding all the puddles to prevent a sound, as he neared the place where he knew his actual target was heading.

The sounds of shouting and panicked screams reached Jim's ears now and he came to a stop, hiding his body into the shadows of a fire escape and screwed on a silencer to his Beretta 92. As he predicted, the rotund blonde had just burst out of a side door and was running towards Jim, choosing to head deeper into the maze of alleys instead of onto the open street where he would be more vulnerable.

Behind the blonde were a few bodyguards that Jim easily took care of as they passed by him. The target panicked as he heard the pained grunts when his people were shot and killed, and he fell to the ground, splashing as he landed into a puddle.

Jim stepped closer to him, his gun threatening the man who had started to babble.

"Please, do not kill me! I have money. I can give you anything you desire!" he cried out, a slight Romanian accent to his Standard.

"You can't afford me," Jim growled back, keeping his face hidden by his hood. He knew how menacing he looked, dressed in all black. His gloved hand was steady as he held his gun – he was practiced and confident – terrifying in terms of his target.

Indignant even in the face of imminent death, the man shouted at Jim. "Do you know who I am? I can get you anything you want!"

Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why else would he be here pointing a fucking gun in his target's face if he didn't know who he was? "You're Iosif Alexandrescu, and you are the man who will give me the answers I want."

Jim didn't wait to hear anything else that Iosif was going to say and slammed the butt of his gun into the Romanian's temple.

Iosif went down like a bag of potatoes and Jim bent down to zip tie his legs and arms together before dragging the man down the alley to his get-away car that he had hid around the corner.

He left behind the bodies without a single care, and like a wisp of smoke, Jim was gone again – this time with a prize in tow.

* * *

><p>Capturing Iosif had been the first time that Jim truly surfaced in thirteen days. In that time, Jim had traveled through most of Eastern Europe, listening and digging for answers. He had almost gotten desperate, living off pure adrenaline, until he managed to uncover a partial trace of Frank's phone call buried deep under bureaucrat bullshit somewhere in one of Starfleet's branch office in Romania. It wasn't accurate and Jim had to follow a few leads through the upper Eastern Europe before he discovered the caller to be Iosif Alexandrescu – an assistant to one of the previous Admirals before the Nero incident. He had been promoted in the following years, climbing the ranks as a secretary. But Jim still had difficulty locating the bastard. Iosif was extremely paranoid (three guesses why?) and was in hiding when he wasn't at his post in the Romanian office, which was almost always.<p>

Jim had to lure him out. To do so, he had to break into Iosif's office to check his files for his closest business partner, which was no easy feat. The building had been heavily guarded by loyal and unsuspecting Starfleet officers that Jim wanted to avoid at all costs – he didn't want to raise any alarms (as far as he knew, the people that were after Jim didn't know that he was after _them_) and he didn't want to _have _to kill the soldiers. But he had to maintain his cover. If any of them had seen him, Jim would have to ensure their silence forever. Luckily, he was able to slip into Iosif's office unnoticed and find a name that led him to Serbia.

The place was so cold that it made Jim number than he had already felt, but he kept up his surveillance on Iosif's partner in embezzlement, knowing full well that Iosif was on his way. Jim knew because he had hacked into Iosif's computers and tweaked the numbers in his accounts, making it seem that he was getting played by his partner.

Jim had to wait for two days before Iosif showed up in Serbia, but even then, Jim couldn't get Iosif alone. The man was always followed by his bodyguards – people that Jim didn't want to bring into this entire mess. So Jim chose to set a metaphorical fire to smoke him out, shooting Iosif's partner and leading Iosif straight into his trap like a mouse in a psychology experiment.

Now, the man was slumped unconscious in a chair in a dark room that Jim had set up as his bolt-hole. The room itself was barren; not even a bed was placed in there. Jim didn't sleep much nowadays, seeing how he was always on the run, trying not to be discovered. It was much harder than he could make it sound – the famous James T. Kirk was recognizable throughout the entire universe, particularly on his own home planet. He had to take drastic measures to hide his noticeable features, even donning on colored contacts to make his irises pitch black and rubbing his hair with mud to make it temporarily dark brown. At one point, Jim had even drawn in ugly scars to mar his features, but maintaining it proved to be too difficult so he just let it be. Still, all his efforts had worked until now. No one knew that James Kirk was in the shadows again, tearing through the underground in his mission, which was coming to an end soon, hopefully.

Grabbing a pail of cold water, Jim threw it mercilessly at Iosif, jolting the man awake in seconds.

"Morning, Iosif," Jim taunted as he cast the metal bucket aside. It clunked onto the ground with a loud sound.

Iosif flinched, but he couldn't move much with the rope wrapping tightly around his torso, arms, and legs. He would have to tip the chair if he wanted to move anything more than a couple of centimeters.

Frantically, Iosif looked at his captor, noticing that the hood no longer covered his face. Jim hadn't bothered with the colored contacts that day – it messed with his sniping accuracy – and his hair had returned back to its normal dirty blonde color. Without any extra disguises, it was obvious who it was that stood before Iosif.

Instantly, Iosif's expressions twisted, turning angry and venomous. "Captain Kirk," spat Iosif.

Jim pulled out a knife from one of his pockets in response, touching the sharp blade in a very threatening manner. "Iosif, I have a few questions for you and I would very much like you to answer them." Jim's tone was lighthearted, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made a shiver run down Iosif's spine. "I know that you're not working alone and we'll get to that. For now, why the hell are you trying kill me?"

Jim snarled the last bit and lunged forward, stabbing his knife into the back of Iosif's chair, nicking the Romanian's earlobe.

To Iosif's credit, he didn't flinch in fear as he did back in the alley. He actually had the nerve to chuckle. "We do not want to kill you, Captain Kirk. We merely want you gone."

"And why's that? You jealous of my Captaincy? You want to take it from me?"

Iosif's teeth gnashed in contempt. "You've gotten too big, Captain Kirk. You pose a threat to the rest of the universe."

"How so?"

"You are _the_ Captain Kirk. Your very existence threatens the peace that Starfleet keeps. While you are alive, while you are free to do what you please, nations and species become more angered. With the drop of your name, fear spreads, and we cannot have that. We cannot have a revolution simply because your influence has grown too strong."

Jim smirked, backing up again, but keeping his knife in full view. "So in other words, you're afraid of me and of what I can do."

"We are not fools. We know to fear when there is a monster in our midst."

"What stories have you heard that led you to this ridiculous notion?"

"Everything. From your childhood to your time building the _Enterprise _to your present. We know of the missions you carried out for Admiral Komack. We know of your involvement in Tarsus IV. We know of the blood that follows you. Even you cannot deny that mayhem and misery trail behind you."

Jim stilled, shock flashing across his blue eyes. "And how do you know that?" he demanded.

"You may have excellent hacking skills and removed all traces of your past, but did you not think that leaving your history so unusually blank would not raise red flags? I, among others, was chosen to discover what you have been hiding."

"So you decided to hack into the most secure archives within Starfleet, which happens to be the Admirals' personnel files."

"Correct. Our duty is to maintain the peace and safety within the Federation, and you are a threat that must be eliminated."

"Short of killing me, there isn't much that you can do, and you have just made it clear that you are not in the business of murder. How are you going to get rid of me? I will never willingly leave Starfleet, as I'm sure you all know."

"We shall make you fall from grace, Captain."

Realization dawned on Jim. "You're going to frame me for something…something huge," he breathed out.

There was no response from Iosif and Jim knew that he had hit the bulls-eye.

Despite the ominous feeling that was growing within him, Jim just smirked and flicked his left wrist, pointing his knife at the traitor. "Good luck. That's going to be hard to do when I bring you in for treason."

Iosif grinned wickedly. "Too bad you will not have the luxury."

His jaw worked oddly and Jim realized far too late that Iosif had bit into a cyanide capsule that had been hidden in one of his back molars. Death took seconds, taking any evidence that Jim might have had with it.

Frustration poured out of Jim as he ran his hair. Goddamn! After _days_ of scrounging around like a dog with the lowest of scum, this was where it all ended. Iosif was the last lead Jim had. The _only_ lead Jim had. There were no more whispers, no more trails. Iosif was literally Jim's last resort, and now that he was dead, this was the end of the road for Jim. He didn't even know who the hell Iosif was working.

With nothing tangible except for Iosif's body, Jim highly doubted that Starfleet would just take his word on Iosif's treason. Even if Dreyes believed him, Jim's word meant nothing to the Federation without any proof.

He literally had nothing now. God fucking damn!

And if Iosif had already set his plans to bring Jim down in motion, there was absolutely _nothing_ Jim could do to stop it.

Yeah. There was no doubt about it.

Jim was thoroughly screwed.

He turned, cursing under his breath as he rummaged through his duffel bag and pulled out a communicator. There was only one number plugged into it and with a single press, Jim could hear it dialing out on a secure line.

"_Is it done?"_ The voice was muffled with static, but the words were clear.

"Dreyes, everything's gone cold," Jim said, his tone livid. "Iosif's dead."

"_Did you kill him?"_

"Does it make a difference if I did? The point is, he died before he could tell me who else he was working with."

"_Then you know what has to happen. Where is your current location?"_

"Fucking Serbia."

"_In that case, I will see you back in San Francisco in two days."_

Jim's fingers tightened around the communicator as dread filled his heart. Out of all of his contingency plans, Jim had to fall back on the one with the worst outcome, just because he failed to keep Iosif alive. Fuck. He had no choice now. "Three days, Dreyes. I need to stop by somewhere first. Need to clean up some loose ends."

"_Fine. Be careful. There is no telling what will happen now, Kirk."_

There was a click as Dreyes hung up on Jim.

Fucking Dreyes. As if Jim didn't know that shit was going to hit the fan so very soon.

Angrily, Jim threw the communicator back into his bag and packed everything in a few movements. Throwing up his hood, Jim walked out, leaving Iosif behind for others to find.

After thirteen grueling days, it was time to go home.

And for once, Jim was dreading it.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>So I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I realize that there are some references in here that are from my other story <em>Ingenious Idiot<em>, but I'm really too lazy to go through it and point them out. If you're really confused, either PM/review me or read that story. It should help clarify a few things.

Also, this story, though written out in my head (not on paper!), may be updated slowly from this point on. I will try for at least one update per month, but I recently failed an exam - and by fail, I mean like fail _fail_ (not just a B or C) and I kind of had a massive freak out. So I've decided to focus more on my studies and write whenever I get the free time - at least until I bring up my horrible grade. Sorry! BUT I promise that I will NOT abandon this story or _Ingenious Idiot_. It will just take a bit of time to get the next chapters up, so I hope you guys still stick around and support this story!

Hmm. I think that's about it. As always, please review! It always makes my day, especially with how crappy things have been lately with school and life in general. Your reviews seriously keep me writing and doing the things I enjoy, so for that, I thank you all so much for your kind words and encouragement.

Thanks!

Cheers,

Kanae Yuna


	3. Chapter 3: Of Mistakes and Beginnings

**Chapter 3**

**Of Mistakes and Beginnings**

Under the cover of a dark and rowdy bar, the Command crew of the _Enterprise, _sans their Captain, sat huddled around a table. They were all dressed in inconspicuous civvies – dark, plain shirts with jeans – and were ducking their heads to avoid any attention. Each had matching grim expressions, drawn out with gaunt lines of exhaustion, fear, and worry.

"Anything?" McCoy murmured to the group, his grip on his beer so tight that his knuckles were white.

They all knew what McCoy was referring to.

Spock shook his head. "Nothing as of late."

It had been nearly fifteen days since Jim completely disappeared. Normally, McCoy would have some semblance of where Jim would be or what he was doing, but this time, there was nothing. Even Spock and Chekov combined couldn't even begin to find a trace of Jim. It was just like he was a wisp of smoke – one second there and the next, he was in the wind.

The crew had immediately confronted Pike about their Captain's whereabouts, but even the Admiral was in the dark on the matter. In fact, he hadn't even known that Jim was gone. Or at least, he hadn't expected Jim to have left so soon. The last they spoke, Dreyes had already put things into motion – no matter how anyone fought, Jim was going to be pulled into the depths of Section 31 and disappear until his mission was completed. It was just a matter of time and clearly, the situation was far direr than Pike had suspected if Jim was already shipped off within _minutes_ of landing.

Frustrated, but resigned, Pike could only leave things how they were. Section 31 had hold of Jim now and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

And now, _days_ later, the crew had _less_ than what they started with.

"Goddamn. Where the hell could he be?" McCoy snarled quietly.

"He's left on missions before, Leonard," Uhura said gently, her voice tainted with worry that she would never show in front of Kirk.

"But he's never completely gone off the grid like this. No matter what kind of mission he was on, either me or Pike knew about the general location he was in or how long he'd be." McCoy hesitated and looked down at the table with such sorrow and hurt in his eyes. "He agreed that he'd always tell me…"

Chekov frowned. "Vhat are ve going to do?"

"Is there anything that we can do?" Sulu questioned. "I mean, you and Spock have been trying everything to find a single trace on him, but Kirk's a ghost. We might just have to wait until he pops up again."

"What if he doesn't? His note was extremely vague, and a vague Jim never means anything good," McCoy shot back.

"Ever the optimist, aren't you? I thought we were the 'glass-half-full' type of people," Sulu said, his words echoing a similar situation when Jim and Chekov had been captured in Germany. "You should know better than any of us that Kirk left us for a reason. What if we're endangering him by looking for him?"

Chekov fell silent, remembering his time in captivity in Germany with Jim. Back then, Jim clearly could have gotten himself out of that precarious situation so easily, but with Chekov in the equation, he had to take drastic measures to ensure Chekov's safety. It almost cost Jim his life and it was not something anyone of them wanted repeated.

"I agree vith Hikaru," he said sadly. "The Keptin is stronger vhen he does not hawe to look after someone else."

"While that is true, Jim is also infamous for his lack of self-preservation," Spock added.

For once, McCoy agreed with the Vulcan. "Jim needs someone to watch his back."

Scotty took a deep gulp of his scotch before speaking. "Ah think yer all forgettin' tha' Jim only gets reckless if he's tryin' to protect someone. Think 'bout it. Name one time tha' Jim got 'urt because he was tryin' to save 'imself."

"But he's never had a fucking flashing target on his back before! And it was put there by people that he should have been able to trust," McCoy snarled. "Pike said it himself – Starfleet's been compromised, which means Jim's mission could have been too."

"Jim's a smart lad and he knows what he's doin'. Trust me on this," Scotty said with conviction, completely disregarding McCoy's worries. "Wherever tha' lad is, he's alive and survivin'. All we can do is stick around and make sure tha' he has a family and home to come back to."

"But what if we can't? Our next orders haven't even come in yet, but there are rumors that we're being reassigned Captains," Uhura hissed. "If we get shipped out before Kirk comes back, there's nothing we can do."

McCoy groaned and rubbed his face tiredly. "We're in a hot damn mess, aren't we? Goddamn it, Jim…"

"We are all worried, Doctor, and we all fear for Jim's safety, but exhausting ourselves over what could happen is not conducive to anyone." Spock paused and his voice suddenly became softer. "Jim would not wish for us to worry about him as much as we are now."

"Then what will you have me do?!" McCoy almost burst out, only remembering at the last minute to keep his voice down. "Jim's out there doing god knows what with absolutely no support! I can't just sit around and do nothing!"

Spock leveled an even look at McCoy. "What can you do that will help him then, Doctor? Pray tell, because I truly would like to know as well."

McCoy's entire body tensed, as if he was about to wrestle with the Vulcan, but a second later, he deflated, completely resigned.

"Jim will be fine," Spock tried again, trying to comfort himself as well as the rest of his friends.

Leonard slammed his beer to the table, screeching his chair back as he suddenly got to his feet. "He damn well better be, or I'm going to avenge his idiotic ass, damn the consequences and the fuckers that played him like a fucking puppet."

The highly wound-up doctor stormed away, banging and swearing his way out of the bar.

Uhura sighed and stood as well, though much more delicately than McCoy had done. "I better make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." And she followed Leonard out.

The rest of them didn't sit around for long after them. Spock left almost immediately after Nyota, planning on seeing what else he could dig up; Scotty waited for a few more minutes to drain the last of his scotch before leaving silently.

"We should probably go too," Sulu said to Chekov who merely nodded quietly.

The two paid for the tab and stepped out into the street. People bustled about in the sun before them, rushing to their destinations without sparing them a glance. It was almost unfair how the world kept moving without Jim around – there wasn't a single shred of his presence in this world that he had saved over and over again.

But perhaps that was only because Chekov was searching for Jim in the people moving around him. He wanted to see that cocky smile that Jim always had before he did something amazing; he wanted to see the gentle and caring soul that Jim always saw in the hearts of the complete strangers around him. But without Jim beside him to remind him that there were genuinely good people out in the world, it was hard for Chekov to see past his own hurt, anger, and sorrow.

Sulu patted Chekov on his shoulder, attempting to be comforting, but he knew that it wasn't going to be enough because he simply couldn't understand the depths of Chekov's emotions. He and Kirk had always been fast friends – not quite as close as Spock or Bones – yet enough that they could call each other brothers. Sulu had every faith in Jim to keep himself safe, but he knew he was being naïve. He couldn't even begin to fathom what Kirk was facing right now while Chekov could. The young Navigator had been with Jim on one of his missions, and they both came back bleeding and dying. Sulu didn't know exactly what had transpired in that dirty prison cell that the two had been kept in, but what they went through – it created a bond between Kirk and Chekov that no one but the two of them could understand.

He didn't know how to comfort Chekov, but he certainly could try, and Chekov appreciated it.

The young genius smiled at Sulu gratefully, not saying a word.

"Take care, alright, Chekov? I'll stop by tomorrow if you want to grab lunch."

"I vould like zat," Chekov responded. "See you tomorrow, Hikaru."

Sulu waved once and turned around, strolling away. Chekov waited for a couple of seconds before going the other way to head home. As he did, he caught a flash of a hooded figure standing across the street from him, staring directly at him. The black hood covered most of the man's face, leaving only a small section of his pale chin visible to the public. His hands were shoved into his jeans' pockets, making his shoulders slightly hunched. He didn't stand out in the crowd – people paid almost no attention to him at all – but there was something vaguely familiar about his tall, fit figure.

Before Chekov had the chance to work though anything, he blinked and the man was gone – disappearing like a mirage. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. He must be tired and strained if he seeing things.

Pulling his jacket closer to his body, Chekov started walking again, not even realizing that he was being followed. After a few blocks, he turned into an alley – a shortcut to his apartment.

That was his mistake.

He only had the time to take two steps before hands reached out and grabbed him – one wrapping around his mouth to silence him and the other in an unbreakable hold around his stomach and waist.

He couldn't even scream, let alone fight, before he was dragged completely into the shadows.

And absolutely no one had noticed.

* * *

><p>Pike sighed tiredly as he turned the key to his door. His home was dark and empty, just as he left it. He had just come back from a long day of work followed by an entire evening of mollifying Spock and McCoy about Jim. Nothing he said did anything to help, but the alcohol and the company had temporarily soothed all parties involved.<p>

Exhaustion hung on Pike's older frame, his own worry for his "adopted" son weighing heavily down on him as he started to remove the thin jacket he had on. Keys clinked into its glass bowl by the door – the only sound besides Pike's breathing.

Trudging forward, Pike moved into the kitchen, refusing to turn on the lights. He had planned on pouring himself another tumbler of whiskey when the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Quietly and covertly, Pike opened one of his drawers, his hand resting on a phaser that he had hidden inside.

"There's no need for that," came a very familiar and tired voice.

Pike almost jumped at how close the man was to him, but that was quickly replaced with such relief that it made his knees weak. "Damn it, Jim! I could've killed you!" he exclaimed, turning around and switching the lights on in one gesture.

Jim stood a few feet away from him, leaning casually against the counter. He was in jeans and a navy-blue, long-sleeved shirt. His hair had been mussed with and there were weary lines drawn deep into his young face, but there was a small smile there as Jim looked at his father-figure with fondness.

"No, you couldn't have, and you know it, Pike," Jim chuckled. His laughter was strained, almost forced. It was to be expected though. Fifteen days scampering around god-knows-where, fighting and surviving did a lot of things to a man. If it were any longer, Jim probably would have forgotten what it felt like to smile or laugh.

Pike just eyed Jim and reached up, opening a cabinet to pull out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He poured equal amounts into them, sliding one over towards Jim. "I didn't give you that key to scare the hell out of me, kid."

"Shouldn't have given me the key to your house in the first place. That was your mistake," he quipped as he easily caught the tumbler.

"And yet, this is the first time you've ever used it."

Jim shrugged and drained the whiskey in one go. Though strong, the alcohol was nowhere enough to even give Jim a little buzz.

"When did you get in?" Pike sipped at his own drink.

"This morning."

"Where have you been?"

"Somewhere cold."

Pike knew better than to ask details of his mission under Section 31. "You okay?"

"For now," Jim said cryptically. "I need a favor, Chris. A huge one."

The fact that Jim used Pike's first name set off alarm bells in his head. Jim only ever called him 'Chris' when he was desperate. Pike tried to not let his panic show in his body language and resolutely lifted his chin. "Anything, Jim. You know that."

Jim set the glass down. "The mission was a bust. There's nothing I can do now except wait for everything to go to hell in a handbasket."

"What's going to happen?"

"I don't know the exact details, but it's not going to end well for me." Jim ran his fingers through his short hair nervously. Now Pike understood how Jim's hair got so messy – he must've been repeating that motion over and over again to calm his agitated nerves with no avail. "Chris, no matter what happens, I need you to let it play out. It's the only way."

"You know I can't do that if you're going to be in danger, Jim…" Pike whispered.

"You have to. This is the end of the road for me, but there's something that you can do." Jim slid a folded piece of paper towards Pike. "Burn this when you've memorized it."

Pike frowned as he picked it up. "What is it?"

"Instructions. Tell no one about this, Chris. Not even to Bones or Spock. This _cannot_ get out." Jim stepped away when Pike skimmed through Jim's hastily scrawled words.

"Jim…this is…?!" Pike glanced up in horror at Jim.

Jim winced. "Yeah, I know. Trust me, I'm not looking forward to it either." He paused. "I gotta go. There're a few more things I need to do before tomorrow."

"Jim…"

"Keep my family safe, Chris," Jim interrupted, his voice quiet and soft. "That includes you. Don't do anything stupid and tell them to stay the hell away from all this. I can't let you guys get burned by the whiplash."

"Be careful, Jim. Please."

Jim smiled so sadly that it made Pike's heart ache. "That went out the window long before I even got involved." He walked towards the door, knowing full well that Pike was going to follow him there. Stopping at the now open exit, Jim turned to look at his father-figure one more time. "Thanks for everything, Chris. Goodbye. See you on the other side."

Before Pike even got the chance to reply, Jim was gone again, taken by the darkness around him.

* * *

><p>The night was chilly and a slight fog had started to settle in. The streets were completely empty at this late hour, and it was exactly how Jim wanted it. He pulled up his hood, zipping up his jacket as a cold shiver ran through him. It wasn't quite as cold as Serbia or even Iowa during the winter, for that matter, but the weather still chilled Jim to his bones.<p>

After leaving Pike's house, Jim had tied up a few more loose strings before wandering out to clear his head. Emotionally, Jim was completely drained. He had left a letter to Bones lying on his coffee table back in his apartment. He had no doubt that Bones regularly checked his empty place (he refused to call the small studio as "home" since he was barely ever there anyway) to see if Jim had ever stopped by. Jim didn't risk it, of course. The reporters knew where Jim lived when he was in San Francisco and often staked it out, which is why Pike had given him a key to his place. Pike's home was on the outskirts of the bustling downtown – it was traditional and unchanged, almost replicating the twenty-first century style housing – and it was quiet and more importantly, undisturbed. But Jim hadn't dared to take Pike up on his offer, choosing to stay over at Bones' place until reporters figured that out too. Then, Jim had just bounced between his crew, staying only briefly until shore leave was _finally_ over with and he could get back on board his usual, beautiful girl.

It was going to be a while before Jim would be able to step foot on the _Enterprise_ now, if ever. He was going to miss her and everything that came with her: his family, his crew, and his freedom. He still wasn't sure what the hell Iosif and his comrades had come up for him, but he had an inkling of how it was going to go down. He had known for a while now that his downfall was never going to be about him dying. His death would mark him as a martyr for the history books and his name would forever be remembered in awe and inspiration (even though he didn't deserve it); Iosif wanted to destroy his very existence. To do that, Jim would have to, as Iosif said, fall from grace. He hadn't lied when he accidentally let it slip during that mission with wisps that someone was out to destroy his reputation, not that anyone actually paid attention to it. He, himself, hadn't even realized that he had blurted it out – he had never meant to let his crew know anything about this.

With Iosif dead, Jim just knew that things were in motion now – they had to act quickly, especially when they weren't sure if Iosif talked to Jim. This was going to be his last night. Tomorrow, he was going to meet up with Dreyes and just let everything hit him at once. Maybe – _just_ maybe – Jim would still be able to stand after the harsh beat-down that he was in for.

And all Jim wanted to do was find Bones and crash on his couch. He wanted to get his best friend piss-ass drunk as they used to do when they were in the Academy. He just wanted Bones' sarcastic and grouchy company, god help him. He wanted to do math problems with Chekov, play chess with Spock, serenade to Uhura, fence with Sulu, and share tales with Scotty. His heart ached and yearned to be with his family – to see them smile and laugh with him, to have their presence warm him and keep him human.

In the fifteen days that Jim was separated from them, he could feel the familiar apathy creeping up on him. There was a coldness settling in his chest; lives around him stopped meaning something. He was returning to the "kill or be killed" world and the people around him started appearing as wolves wrapped in sheep's clothing. It reminded him too much of Tarsus – of his time as J.T., and that frightened him, because he was never scared to do what needed to be done, no matter how dirty his hands got. He was terrified of that; he knew what he was capable of, which was exactly why he was absolutely petrified of looking in the mirror one day to see a monster staring back at him.

When he was with Bones, Spock, Chekov, Uhura, Sulu, and Scotty, Jim could pretend that he wasn't aware of his dark side. He could pretend that people really didn't hate him as much he hated himself. More importantly, he could pretend that he was _human_ – that his past didn't define him. Being around his family let him feel that he was actually living and not just surviving (because there was a huge difference between the two, as Jim was well aware). He was happy, and that kept J.T. at bay.

But all good things came to an end – it was his rule number thirteen ('lucky' number thirteen…). Jim knew that better than anyone.

It was time to go, but he remembered what he was leaving. He remembered the best, and his friends had always been the best of him. He could spend lifetimes and still not be able to express the depths of his gratitude to his friends, especially to Bones. Bones was the first – the one constant in Jim's chaotic life – and to him, Jim left everything, though it wasn't much. His savings, his apartment, and all those trinkets that Jim had gathered over the years he had known Bones – they were all going to his best friend. Bones would finally get to find out about the college fund that Jim had started for Joanna the day he became Captain. Pike would, under Jim's instruction, get a damn good lawyer and perhaps he could get full custody of his kid.

Jim wasn't sure what he could possibly leave to the rest of his crew, but he hoped that they would still stay together. He had never thought that they would disperse just because he wasn't around – their bonds were stronger than that – but Bones would need them as much as Jim did. Bones filled holes in Jim's life and Jim did the same for the doctor; this was going to tear them both apart, damaging things that were barely patched up in the first place. And it killed Jim to have to do this to his best friend – to his brother.

Goddamn. Jim really wanted to see his family, but it was too dangerous. Going to any of their places would just rouse suspicion and Jim couldn't risk putting his friends in danger right before they were going to be shipped off to Zenobia where they would be safe.

Jim had just talked it over with Dreyes. In the morning, the Admiral was going to send out the orders for Wolff to take over for him. The sooner the better too, unfortunately, because Jim didn't want them to be around and caught up in the aftershocks of the earthquake that Jim was about to set off. Jim was going to be the epicenter and lives were going to be ruined if they were in too close of a proximity to him.

All Jim had to do now was meet up with Dreyes tomorrow to "officially" be given his orders and wait for his life to fall apart.

Hopefully, Jim had been able to predict all of his opponents' moves and his contingency plans would be able to cover and counter their actions. Jim wasn't a genius for nothing – he was fairly confident in his abilities to get himself out of tight spots.

He didn't believe in no-win situations, especially in this match of chess. Jim almost _never_ lost at that game.

And he wasn't about to change that.

* * *

><p>Jim had a sense of foreboding the moment he woke up in his dingy, dirty, no-name motel room, and it wasn't because he saw a rat scampering across the floor at the foot of his bed. These sort of conditions never bothered Jim (not after his past experiences – nothing could be worse than Tarsus). He had gotten maybe an hour or two of sleep before the first rays of sunlight woke him up. A heavy feeling sat on his chest, constricting and twisting like a boa constrictor. It was something that he had felt before on a day that he was never going to be able to forget for the rest of his life. This ominous, sinking sensation was almost exactly what Jim felt the morning that Kodos executed half the Tarsus IV colony before his eyes.<p>

He rubbed his face wearily, trying to shake away all trepidation, but he knew that it wasn't going to do much. Swinging his legs around, Jim pulled himself out of bed and started pulling on his jeans and a tight, black long-sleeved shirt. Glancing at the mirror, Jim noted that he had lost weight – his face was gaunt and pale; there was steel in his blue eyes, tinting it grey. It had been a long time since Jim had seen such a look in himself – over twelve years, in fact – and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Terrified was probably a good adjective to use at the moment. It was a strange combination with his determination and resolution.

With his heavy heart, Jim left the sanctity of his room and made his way unnoticed to Starfleet Headquarters. People bustled around him, each rushing to their destinations and to complete their tasks. No one paid any attention to Jim, though he did purposely hunch his shoulders to make himself smaller and unnoticeable. As Jim stepped into the pristine white building, he could feel his nerves grating and he almost hesitated, but he kept going.

There was no going back now.

Straightening, Jim marched to Dreyes' office with purpose now. Passing cadets and officers started to take notice of Jim, making way for the young Captain as he walked into the elevator to go up five floors.

He paused right before Dreyes' door, completely freezing even as his hand prepared to knock. Something was off. His instincts were _screaming _at him, ringing all sorts of bells in his head, and he was immediately on guard. He had learned long ago to always trust his instincts (rule number two), because they were almost always right.

But he couldn't figure out what was amiss. The hallway was usually fairly empty with a couple of officers going from one end to another, so there was nothing different about that. There were no sounds of a scuffle or angry words being thrown at some hapless cadet; there was nothing different about his immediate surroundings.

Frowning, Jim knocked on the door, but there was no response. Dreyes should be in his office – he had made an appointment with Jim at 0800 sharp, and Dreyes never missed or was late to an appointment. Trepidation ran down Jim's spine as he cautiously turned the doorknob to open the door.

An overwhelming stench of iron slammed into Jim and panic started to rise. He could recognize that smell even asleep – it was something that he had never been able to wash off: the pungent scent of blood.

Without even thinking, Jim burst into the room, not caring that, in his haste, he had slammed the door so hard against the wall that the thud was heard down the hall. Dreyes' office was an absolute mess – papers were lying uselessly on the ground; furniture was overturned. It was a far cry from the obsessive compulsive cleanliness that Dreyes maintained.

Jim's blue eyes settled on Dreyes a second later and his entire stomach dropped out. Dreyes was sitting in his chair, leaning backwards at an awkward angle. Blood was beginning to pool around the legs of his seat, dripping down from numerous stab wounds in his torso. The knife's handle was still protruding from where it was buried under his left clavicle. His eyes were closed and his right hand was lying limply on his desk, leaving bloody prints all over the documents that were set on the table.

"Shit!" Jim swore under his breath and took two giant running steps to reach Dreyes' side. He pressed his fingers against Dreyes' left jugular vein and felt a thread and fading heartbeat.

There wasn't much hope for Dreyes. Now that Jim was closer, he could actually count how many times Dreyes had been stabbed. The poor man had been attacked from the front, which meant that Dreyes had known his attacker. For him to be stabbed seven times, it must have been someone that Dreyes had fully trusted. The first act alone had probably stunned Dreyes so much that he couldn't react to the rest.

Still, Dreyes had a heartbeat and Jim may still be able to get him to say who it was that attacked him before it was too late.

Jim knew to not remove the knife – it was probably acting as a plug for that particular wound, which prevented further blood loss. He pressed his hands straight onto Dreyes' chest. Nausea rose in Jim's throat as he felt the warm liquid gush over his fingers. With each fading heartbeat, more blood was pumped out onto Jim's hands. It raised memories that Jim never wanted to touch again.

_Little Charlie had just been shot by Kodos' soldier; his brown eyes were growing more and more vacant even as J.T. tried to stop the bleeding. Minutes ticked by and soon, those eyes saw nothing more, leaving behind bloodstained hands that could never be clean again._

Shaking himself out of the memory, Jim pressed down harder, eliciting a weak groan from Dreyes. The Admiral slowly peeled his eyes open and Jim could see the once brilliant look glazing over as his body failed him.

"Hey," Jim said reassuringly, despite the worry that he knew was shining in his eyes. "You're going to be alright."

Dreyes breathed laboriously as he struggled to find the words. "Bull…shit…" he panted.

"Who did this to you, Dreyes?" The urgency in Jim's voice couldn't be hidden. Dreyes was fading before him so fast, like a candle flame on its last legs.

Dreyes coughed, blood splattering onto Jim's face.

"Dreyes! Stay with me! Who the hell did this to you?!" Jim almost shouted, shoving down harder on Dreyes' chest.

The Admiral weakly squirmed in pain; his breathing was getting shallower and clearly, he was fighting to drag in that precious oxygen into his punctured lungs. He wheezed, "Trap…"

"What trap? Tell me, what trap?!"

"_Enterprise_…"

"What about the _Enterprise_? Come on, Dreyes! You're stronger than this, you damn bastard!"

But Dreyes was done. He wheezed in one last breath and gurgled, blood filling his mouth to the point that it started dripping down his chin. And then he breathed no more. Dreyes' entire body went slack and his open eyes stared unseeingly into the distance.

"God fucking damn!" Jim hissed, pulling his hands away. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair, but his hands were soaked in blood.

Horror and disgust of the feel of blood on him consumed him and he wanted nothing more than to run away.

Dreyes was never his favorite person – he barely even got along with the man, but it was still hard to see someone that he knew, die before him. And the fucking bastard left more questions than answers. What did he mean by trap? And what did that have to do with the _Enterprise_? She was already getting ready to leave San Francisco to go to Zenobia. Was she flying into a trap or was Jim going to be trapped by her?

Pieces slowly connected and oh. _Oh._ In that instant, Jim knew who had killed Dreyes – or at least he had a good guess, but he would have to confirm it before he acted upon it. Quickly, he ducked down to glance at the knife, grabbing the handle and pulling it out for any clues. As he did, his eyes caught sight of the papers underneath Dreyes' hand.

Sitting on Dreyes' desk was a half-signed form stating that Captain James T. Kirk was to relinquish his captaincy of the _Enterprise_ to Commander Royce Wolff, effective immediately. Dreyes' signature had tapered off in the middle of his first name. Clearly, someone didn't want Dreyes to finish what he started, and it pointed directly at Jim – the one person who had everything to lose from Dreyes signing that form.

It was an obvious implication of Jim's supposed guilt.

Shit. This was going to turn on Jim so quickly that his head was going to be left spinning. He was in the motion of setting down the blade when three officers came rushing in, shouting with their phasers flailing about. Someone must've heard the door slamming when Jim ran in and his subsequent shouting and called in the cavalry.

Jim was caught red-handed – literally and metaphorically – with the murder weapon in his hand and hovering over the dead Admiral.

"Stop! Put your hands up and set down your weapon!" yelled a tall, brunette man.

"This isn't what it looks like," Jim said slowly, putting the knife onto the desk with delicate movements. He then did as he was told, raising both hands up in surrender. "He was already dying when I found him."

Suddenly, one of the officers tilted his head and his eyes widened in recognition. "Captain Kirk?" His tone was incredulous and baffled.

"The one and only." For once, Jim was glad for his reputation. "Look, I had an appointment with Dreyes this morning in regards to a mission that I just completed. I'm sure if you look around, you can find some documentation of it. And besides, I have no reason to want to kill him. I have no motive."

The officers looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

"You keep watch on Captain Kirk," the first person said to the one who realized who Jim was. "We'll look around to confirm what he said."

Jim was pushed (none too gently) towards the door and shoved face-first against the wall. He hissed in irritation. "Is this really necessary?"

"I'm sorry, Captain, but this is protocol."

"It's protocol to man-handle innocent people into walls? Who the hell wrote that rule? Seriously, people. A little decorum would be nice here."

"An Admiral is dead – murdered in his own office. I think decorum just went out the window."

Jim fell silent. Yeah, he had to give the officer that.

"Hey! Look at this!" the third officer said loudly.

"Oh my god…" breathed the first.

Jim's heart sank once more as his brilliant mind figured out what the officers had found. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten Dreyes' half-signed document on the desk.

To all those who knew Jim, they knew that his Captaincy of the _Enterprise_ meant everything to him. To lose her could easily send him into a murderous rage – at least that was how it would seem to the outside world.

It was a clear-cut motive.

That, combined with the fact that Jim was found holding the murder weapon and his hands covered in the dead Admiral's blood, was damn condemning evidence that no one could ignore. At this point, Jim wasn't even sure if his mission that was ordered by Dreyes was recorded, (he had been working under Section 31 after all), let alone written down among the papers scattered in his ruined office. It wasn't known as Starfleet's clandestine service for nothing. Jim's name was probably never even recorded and all his missions were most definitely coded and hidden deep, deep within Starfleet's archives.

Jim felt cuffs being clamped onto his wrists tightly and a phaser being jammed against his back.

"Captain James T. Kirk, we place you under arrest for the murder of Admiral Dreyes. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

Jim tuned out the rest of it as he tried to fight down his despair and anger at being wrongfully accused of a murder that he didn't commit.

As he was paraded out of the door as a high-risk criminal, Jim finally understood what Iosif said about him falling from grace. The humiliation and shame were almost enough for Jim to want to escape from his restraints (something that he could do easily) and hunt down Dreyes' actual murderer, but he had to let this play out.

There was more to this – Jim just knew it. With all the trouble Iosif and his people went through to frame Jim for this murder, there still wasn't going to be enough to convict him. With how advanced technology was now, it was only a matter of time before Jim was freed. His reputation probably wouldn't even suffer from this scratch.

No…Iosif and his friends were far from done.

This was just the beginning.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>Um. So I'm still playing catchup with my horrible grade. I did bring it up quite a bit so I'm actually passing the class now (yay!) but it's still not where I want it to be. I'll probably be working my butt off for these last 5 weeks of school, so again, and I'm sorry, but there's going to be slow updates. I want to thank you guys for being so understanding and giving me so many words of encouragement. I really appreciate all of your kind words and I'm eternally grateful. So thank you so much! I love you all!<p>

Thank you for your reviews and I hope that you continue to review my stories!

Cheers,

Yuna


	4. Chapter 4: Criminal Number One

**Chapter 4**

**Criminal Number One**

"Your new orders have come in," Pike said gravely to Spock and McCoy, his words echoing in his near-silent office. "We're going to be shipping the _Enterprise_ out in the next couple of days."

Pike sat across from them, his hands folded tensely before him on top of the table. Documents with the official Federation logos stamped on them were placed neatly under his palms. Lines around his lips were stretched in a cautious frown as his grey eyes warily watched both Spock's and McCoy's faces darken at the implication that he was saying, but they often flickered to the figure to his right.

Admiral Dreyes stood rim-rod straight beside Pike; his posture demanded respect and invoked intimidation to even those hardened by war and service. His expressions were completely blank and emotionless. It even made Pike feel slightly restless just being Dreyes' presence.

"Our Captain has not returned to active duty," Spock carefully responded, his words slow as if he was taking to a child.

"I can assure you that your Captain is currently on active duty," Dreyes countered. "But your mission does not require his presence. Captain Kirk is needed elsewhere."

"Where did you send Jim off to?" McCoy snarled, not even slightly fazed by Dreyes' presence. In the beginning, he had gone to Starfleet because he had nothing left; now, he stayed because of Jim.

Dreyes gave McCoy a glare – one that he readily returned. "That's classified and above your pay grade."

"I do not believe it is above mine, Admiral," Spock cut in smoothly. "The safety and wellbeing of Captain Kirk is one of my many duties as his First Officer, and as son of Ambassador Sarek, my clearance level is high enough to be given information regarding Captain Kirk's whereabouts."

"Not high enough, Commander Spock." Irritation was clear on Dreyes' face now. "I am here to discuss the _Enterprise's_ next mission, not Kirk. The _Enterprise_ will be going to Zenobia to investigate whether the claims of an imminent coup are accurate or not. We have gathered intel that the colony's government may have been replaced by a group of men who are not pleased with their current alliance with Starfleet."

McCoy crossed his arms. "Did Jim gather that data for you?"

Dreyes gave the doctor a hard, level stare. "No, Kirk is not involved in this at all."

"Then he is not aware of our mission? We cannot ship out without our Captain, Admiral," Spock said.

"He is very aware of your mission and he has signed off on it despite knowing that he will not be onboard when the _Enterprise _is shipped off."

"Jim wouldn't let us go without him," McCoy argued.

"Dr. McCoy, you were given a limited access to Kirk's history. You know what happened when Kirk was thirteen."

Pike, McCoy, and Spock all stiffened at that. Out of everything that they had ever known about Jim was that Tarsus was something that he would _never_ be able to forget. Even now, McCoy still had to remind Jim to eat, Spock would have to pull Jim out of his nightmarish flashbacks, and Pike had to keep careful track of the remaining survivors for Jim, because only heaven knew what Jim would do if something happened to the last of "his kids".

Tarsus was never a light subject, but with Jim? It was a ticking time bomb.

Dreyes glanced at their expressions. "So you all know about it."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. Even still, no one answered Dreyes.

"Fine, that makes it easier to talk about. We have reason to believe that one of the reasons that the coup that may or may not arise is because a famine has spread across their land. While the supplies should last for another few years – far more time needed for Starfleet to step in and give aid – the horror that was Tarsus IV still remains fresh on everyone's mind."

Dreyes started to pace around, his hands clasped behind his back. His entire body language screamed of uncertainty and concern. "We don't know if drastic measures have been taken, which is why we want the _Enterprise_ – the flagship – to go and ensure the safety and wellbeing of the citizens on Zenobia before it escalates and another Tarsus IV situation occurs."

Pike frowned. "I'm surprised that Jim didn't bully his way into this mission. It doesn't seem likely that he would let the _Enterprise _go to Zenobia without him. Out of everyone in Starfleet, Jim is the best qualified to handle such a situation."

Almost immediately, Dreyes stopped in mid-stride. "I told Kirk a different version than what I am telling you now."

"You lied to him," accused Spock. His raised eyebrow was angry.

"It was a kindness, Commander Spock. I am well aware that Kirk is more than qualified to handle these types of situations. Hell, he lived through it, but that is also why I chose not to bring him onto this. You are the closest people to Kirk. Can you tell me with absolute certainty that Kirk will be able to complete this mission?"

There was no hesitation in Spock. "Yes."

"But can he do it without breaking down into smaller pieces?" questioned Dreyes. "I have seen war and I have seen cruelty, but nothing could ever compare to what Kodos did. I was on the rescue ships. I saw the last shreds of humanity, if you could even call it that, left of Tarsus IV, and it has haunted me since. I was there for only a brief moment and I am still affected by it. How affected do you think someone would be if they had lived through such hell?"

Dreyes paused to let his words sink in. "Kirk is our best operative, but even if he wasn't, I would still would not subject him to a situation that could quite possibly turn out to be a second Tarsus. It would be cruel and unusual punishment. Even I am not quite capable of that."

When Pike, Spock, and McCoy fell silent, Dreyes spoke again. "The _Enterprise _will be shipping off in two days time. Captain Royce Wolff will be taking command for Kirk temporarily. That is all. You are dismissed."

Spock and McCoy shared a look, but there was nothing left to say when Dreyes' mind was clearly set. Without another word, the two exited Pike's office, leaving the two Admirals alone.

"Where _have_ you sent Jim?" asked Pike, turning his chair to face Dreyes directly. "And don't pull the clearance crap on me. I have the right to know what mission you've sent Jim on to stop him from going on the _Enterprise's_."

"The way you say it, Christopher, makes it seem like I'm purposely stalling Kirk."

"I know Jim, Adrian," Pike said, purposely using Dreyes' first name. "Even if he's haunted by Tarsus, he wouldn't let his crew go out there alone."

"I told you, I didn't let him know the whole story."

"Then what _did_ you tell him to get him to back off?"

"That his crew was going to Zenobia for safe-keeping," Dreyes responded lightly, turning to leave.

"And what's the real story, Adrian?" Pike demanded, standing up in anger.

Dreyes just gave Pike a wary and guarded smile. "I just told you."

And then he was gone too, much to Pike's irritation.

Pike fell back down in his chair, rubbing his face tiredly. He hadn't seen or even heard from Jim in _days_. Jim had literally fell off the face of the earth. Not even Pike's connections were enough to find Jim's shadow, let alone his person. If Jim didn't want to be found, then he wasn't going to be unless he chose to reveal himself.

The worry and concern for Jim alone was going to give Pike an ulcer. But now, Dreyes had sprung this new mission on the _Enterprise_. Pike had promised Jim that he would keep his family safe, but he didn't know how to. If the situation on Zenobia was as dire as Dreyes made it out to be, then the _Enterprise _had to go. The flagship had resources and the prestige to counter a possible Tarsus scenario. Combined with McCoy's medical skills and Spock's knowledge of botanics, the _Enterprise _would be perfect.

For the first time and in a long, long time, Pike had no idea what to do.

His comm. beeped and he reached for it. He glanced at it and sighed. McCoy was bitching again. That man truly was the definition of a mother hen, but at the same time, he had every reason to do so now.

After a moment of trying, but failing, to rub the tension out of his head, Pike typed out a quick reply.

He was far too old to be getting drinks with the likes of McCoy, but if that was what helped ease the edge of McCoy and Spock's anxiety, then he guessed that was what he had to do.

It was going to be a long night. It was going to be a quiet night, despite the bar-fight that McCoy almost got into and the surprise visitor he had going home.

When Pike looked back to this fateful evening, he should've known that the quiet was never a good sign.

It was only ever quiet right before a storm, and what happened next could only be described as a fucking hurricane.

* * *

><p>After the meeting with Dreyes and Pike, Spock and McCoy strode down the street in silence for a few minutes, just pondering over all the implications of their next mission.<p>

"So, Pike seems to be pretty out of the loop," McCoy said quietly. "He looked as surprised as we were to hear about Zenobia. You think that Dreyes is telling the truth about that?"

"I do not know. I am hesitant to trust the man."

"Same here. Why do I get the feeling that he's trying to play everyone?"

"You do realize that Jim does the same thing?"

"Yeah, but not to us. Never to us."

"Never? I do believe that Jim will do whatever it takes to keep us safe. It is in his nature."

"Stop fighting against everything I say, you damn hobgoblin. We're talkin' bout Dreyes right now." McCoy lowered his voice, his eyes cautiously watching the people pass by them. "Do you think Dreyes is the one behind all of this? The whole scheme to bring Jim to his knees?"

"It is possible, but if Jim has agreed to Admiral Dreyes' proposal, then I suppose that we should trust his decision. Jim is not one to be easily fooled."

"But what if he is? Do you really think sending us further away from Jim will stop Dreyes?" McCoy shot back. "We can't protect him if we're not near him, Spock. I can't save himif I'm not by his side."

"But you cannot do anything if you do not know anything either. If Admiral Dreyes truly is responsible for the mess we are in, then we have to be prepared and gather more data. Knowledge is power."

McCoy groaned. "Thanks for nothing. What's with Vulcans and speaking in vague clichés?"

Spock chose not to respond, sensing that McCoy was far from done. As usual, he was correct.

"What are we going to do? Will we really leave without Jim? And who the hell is this Captain Wolff guy? I've never heard of him."

"I have heard of a Commander Wolff, but I do not know much of him. He was recently promoted to Captain. The _Enterprise_ will be his first assignment as Captain."

"That seems a bit suspicious, doesn't it? For an average man that barely caught the eye of anyone to suddenly become the Captain of the _Enterprise_?"

"Not necessarily, doctor. We are under the command of Jim, whose reputation and abilities exceed even those known as extraordinary. Under that influence, it is understandable that 'normal' and 'average' has become mundane to us. The fact that I have not heard anything regarding Captain Wolff can mean one of two things: he is absolutely ordinary or he simply has not done anything erroneous enough to catch my attention."

McCoy snorted. "Basically, you're far superior to everyone else and if you haven't noticed them, then they're not important, is that it?"

"I said no such thing. Were you not listening to me, doctor?"

McCoy waved his hand, "That's beside the point. What are we going to do? We can't just leave Jim behind, even if he told us to. Rule number twenty-six: leave no man behind."

"I do not intend to. Shall we meet at your residence?" Spock asked as he watched McCoy pull out his communicator and type out a message to Pike.

"Why my place? Why not yours?"

"Your apartment is located away from the center of the city and relatively quiet compared to the rest of ours. Also, for a conversation such as ours, we should not meet at a bar or restaurant where we can be easily overheard."

"Jim always said that if you're gonna talk business in public, always do it at the busiest and noisiest place."

"Is that one of Jim's rules? I have not heard it before."

"It's not a rule. Just something he mentioned to me before." McCoy looked at his comm. once it beeped. "Pike's in."

"Unsurprising. He cares for Jim like he is his son."

"He wants to meet up at the Waterhog at 1900 hours."

"Is that a bar?"

"Yeah. One of the dingiest and loudest one you'll find in this city. It's Jim's favorite place to go to when he wants to be alone."

Spock found himself, once again, unsurprised by the oxymoron that was Jim Kirk, and wisely chose to refrain from commenting on it. He glanced over at McCoy who was looking wistfully at the sky and squinting at the falling sun.

No doubt the doctor was reminiscing on the days where he and Jim were relatively free from the chains of Starfleet Command. Back then, all they had to worry about were passing their classes and what to do the next day, but they were content. Happy, even.

It all seemed so far away now, those days full of laughter and companionship.

Even if Jim was returned to them and all the danger had passed, Spock wasn't sure if those days would return with him.

They would never be able to go back to what was because they were never going to let Jim leave their sight again, Starfleet be damned.

* * *

><p>McCoy sighed as he pushed through the darkened apartment. Tiredly, he flicked on the lights, barely glancing at the barren room as he made his way to the kitchen. The place was a simple studio with just the bare essentials. There was a two-person, suede couch in the living room, lined against the wall; a metal-lined, glass coffee table was placed in front of it.<p>

There was an empty closet, a blank desk and chair, and a simple, double-sized bed just a few feet away from his make-shift living room. The kitchen was just as bare – there were two sets of dishes, bowls, cups, and tumblers in the cabinets. There were no pots, pans, or any kitchen utensils at all. Unlike most other homes, there was a replicator in place of a refrigerator. But where there was a lack of, there was ample amount of alcohol to make up for it. Whiskey, bourbon, and scotch were stored carefully on the counter, which was exactly what McCoy went right for.

He poured bourbon straight into his tumbler – the one that Jim had actually gotten for him specifically – as he looked out around Jim's apartment.

He wasn't sure why he ended up at Jim's place. Usually, when they were grounded, Jim and McCoy would spend most of their time either in Georgia with Joanna or at McCoy's. Jim had a place just because it was expected of him, but he wasn't used to staying still. He was used to being on the move, always running from something. His apartment was as bare as Jim had meant it to be because it wasn't home for him. It never would be.

Which is probably why McCoy found himself here while he was worried sick over Jim. If Jim wasn't around, McCoy didn't feel as stable as he would've if Jim was around, slung causally over his shoulders, drunk and happy.

Pike didn't give them any more information after meeting up with him after hours. He was more strained than McCoy had ever seen him. It almost made McCoy feel bad hounding the man for information.

He wasn't sure if he fully understood the depth of Jim's connection with Pike. He knew that Jim never had a father-figure and he probably latched onto Pike like a duckling, which is something that McCoy could relate to. Between the two, McCoy wasn't sure who starting clinging to the other first.

Bringing the open bottle with him, McCoy wandered out into the living room, plopping down the couch with a heavy sigh. It was then when he saw a small, white envelope lying on the coffee table.

On it was a single word in elegant script. _Bones._

McCoy swallowed harshly. He would recognize that handwriting anywhere, even if it didn't spell out Jim's nickname for him. He reached for it, setting down his drink at the same time, and opened it.

"_Bones",_ he read. "_I'm sorry for pulling another disappearing act on you. I know I promised to always let you know about my missions, but this time was different. I can't say much except that it's all going to go to hell soon."_

Bones almost tore the handwritten letter apart at that, but he kept on.

"_And I can't stop it. I won't either. There's a bigger plot, a bigger picture. I have an idea of what that is, and it's supposed to ruin me, but I have to let it happen. My head is still a bulls-eye and I can't keep walking around with that on me. You'll all be put in danger, and that's not something I'm going to stand for."_

"_Just in case things don't work out as I plan, I've left you everything I own. My apartment, everything I own, and oh, I started a college fund for Joanna. You'll find out how to access that money if my will is read."_

There was such heavy relief at the fact that Jim had said "if" and not "when". It meant that Jim was still fighting. He still had hope.

He continued reading. _"I think there's quite a bit accumulated now, so if there's anything left over, take it for yourself and get a good lawyer. Get your girl back, Bones, so that she'll always be waiting for you when you come back to Earth."_

Some scribbles were drawn here as if Jim was trying to gather his thoughts, to find the right words. Jim never did excel in expressing his emotions. The next paragraph had jumped to a different topic entirely. Bones almost wanted to laugh, knowing full well that Jim probably decided he had enough of being too open and moved on, but he couldn't find it in him to even smile.

"_Your next mission should have been given to you today."_

Bones had no idea how Jim knew that. The fucking bastard must already be back in the city and was just hiding in the shadows, purposely choosing to leave this stupid letter than show up in person.

"_I know, I know. You're mad at me, but Bones, I can't bring myself to see you or the others. It'll make it too hard for me to do what I need to do. I can't let my resolve break now. I just…can't. But there is something that you guys can do for me. Go to Zenobia. I've made a deal with Dreyes. You all should be safe there. Safe until I can come back."_

So it really looked like Jim was given a different version of Zenobia. Now, Bones was confused. He wasn't exactly Jim who could see all the variables, all the possibilities, and see the bigger picture. He was a genius in medicine, not in strategy.

"_Bones, whatever happens, I need you to let things play out. Trust me. It'll all be fine, I promise. Just, listen to Pike. And whatever you do, please be safe. Keep the others safe, Bones. And take care of yourself."_

The letter ended with a simple signed, _Jim_.

God. It was just like Jim to be so fucking ambiguous. There were more questions than answers now and Bones didn't know how to make heads or tails out of everything. Times like these were where Jim thrived – he was always the one that had a plan, the one that always relieved anxiety and fear.

When everything seemed to be falling apart, it was always up to Jim to solve everything.

With Jim missing and out of action, who were they to turn to now?

* * *

><p>In the end, it turned out that Jim wasn't the only one pulling a disappearing act. When Chekov didn't respond to Sulu, the pilot messaged everyone, asking for his friend's whereabouts. No one knew where the boy genius had gone, but they didn't have time to search for him.<p>

At about 0800 hours the next day, McCoy, Spock, Uhura, and Scotty were called to Pike's office for a full briefing. The five of them had already settled in, ready for the briefing of their next mission, when a man in his early thirties came in.

"Ah, Captain Wolff, it's nice of you to join us," Pike greeted easily.

Wolff flashed them all a bright smile that made his small nose crinkle a little. "It's such an honor to meet all of you!" He rushed forward and started to vigorously shake everyone's hand. "Commander Spock, I have read all your papers on the fundamentals of singularities. You are truly an astounding intellect. And Doctor McCoy, the legends of your medical prowess have spread throughout the Academy and Starfleet. Lieutenant Commander Scott, you are quite a character as well! I cannot wait to work alongside of you all."

He turned to Uhura, his eyes twinkling with the intent to flirt. "Lieutenant Uhura, you are far more beautiful than the rumors say," he said as he leaned down and kissed her hand. "I am most interested in what your tongue can do."

The double innuendo was something that Uhura was very used to, but not from someone that she didn't know – not from someone who wasn't Kirk. And honestly, she didn't know how to take it. She couldn't exactly follow her natural instincts and slap the man across the face. He was supposed to be her commanding officer from this point on.

All of a sudden, she felt another crushing blow caused by Kirk's disappearance. Kirk respected her and her abilities, not simply because she was just another pretty face. But now? She felt degraded to only her physical attributes and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Settle down, Wolff," Pike said, almost in a monotone. The over-eager man seemed more like an overgrown puppy to him and it was absolutely mind-blowing to think that Wolff could even own up to an eighth of what Jim was worth.

"Oh, sorry, sir. I was just excited to meet my new crewmates," Wolff responded with a sheepish grin as he settled down into the last available chair.

He had barely sat down when Sulu burst into the room, his face flushed and completely out of breath.

"Lieutenant Sulu!" snapped Pike, "This is a closed meeting!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but Kirk's just been arrested," Sulu breathed out, still gasping for air.

"What?!" Pike rose to his feet, shock and fear written all over his face.

Spock, McCoy, Scotty, and Uhura weren't too far behind and they all reached out to bodily drag Sulu deeper into the office.

"What happened?" demanded Spock. "Why has Jim been arrested? And how do you know this?"

"I saw him being dragged away by Starfleet officers. They're saying that Kirk killed Dreyes."

"Dreyes is dead?" blinked Pike.

"Officially unconfirmed, sir, but there was a stretcher with a covered body coming out from Dreyes' office."

Immediately, Pike swung around and barked at Wolff who was standing not too far from them with his eyes wide and confused. "You're dismissed, Wolff. I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but by Starfleet protocol, you keep your mouth shut, do you understand?"

"Y-yes…of course, sir. Excuse me…" murmured Wolff, and pushing through to leave. His face was white as a sheet and he was shaking, no doubt grief-stricken that his mentor was assumed dead by the hands of his hero.

Pike quickly shut the door behind Wolf and bullied Sulu into a chair. He was in no better state than Wolff; he looked as though he had been bleached and there was a distant look in his eyes. There was no doubt in any of their minds that Sulu had seen Dreyes' body before it was covered.

Seeing death wasn't something new to the crew of the _Enterprise_. Hell, they had seen Jim take down men and aliens alike without even batting an eye, but it was different when it was someone they knew. That made all the difference in the world.

"You have to tell me what happened, Sulu. Now!" Pike said, shaking the poor man.

"He was stabbed to death. I don't know how many times. There was a lot of blood," swallowed Sulu. "I didn't see much, but Kirk's hands were red."

McCoy fired off the next round of questions. "Was there motive? Do you know what they're saying to make them believe that it was Jim who killed Dreyes?"

"The soldiers said that they found a document on Dreyes' desk. That he was signing over the _Enterprise _to Wolff."

"We all knew tha'," Scotty said. "He's takin' command fer Jim while he's out doin' God knows what."

Sulu shook his head. "No, the document said that it transfer was going to be permanent."

Spock glanced sharply up at Pike and McCoy. "Jim would not murder an Admiral for a reason such as that." But there was uncertainty in his words.

Uhura nodded her head in agreement. "Kirk isn't capable of it, right, Leonard?"

McCoy's face grew grim and he took a second to respond. "He is and he would."

She gaped at him. "You're not honestly insinuating that Kirk did this!"

"Of course not!" he growled. "But I'm not saying that it's out of his capabilities! He'd do it if we were in danger and you know it."

"But he's not stupid enough to get caught," said Sulu. "I've seen him pull some serious ninja shit on his missions. If he wanted Dreyes dead, we would never know who did it."

"So what should we do?" asked Uhura.

"Jim left specific instructions that you guys are to go on your mission, regardless of what happens to him," Pike responded lowly.

"What? We won't leave him when he's facing murder charges!" she protested.

"You're going to have to. The mission has been cleared. The _Enterprise_ is going to set off to Zenobia regardless of what happens to Jim. I'll do everything in my power to help him, trust me. There's nothing you all can do for him anyway."

Scotty immediately crossed his arms, defiant. "I ain't goin' if Jim won't be there."

"You have to, Scotty. You promised Jim that you'll take care of his ship when he's gone, didn't you?" Pike said gently. "Rule number forty-three: never break a promise."

Jim had made Scotty promise to take care of the _Enterprise_, no matter where he was or what he was doing. She was their girl, and Scotty wasn't one to go back on his word, especially one that he made to Jim. His posture sagged, defeated, and he spoke no more against the matter.

Pike looked at Spock, Sulu, and Uhura. "What about the rest of you? Jim told Dreyes that he wanted you all to go without him. Now, I don't know if Jim actually said that or if he agreed for a different reason, but you guys need to understand that as officers of Starfleet, you still have duties. You can't stop just because Jim isn't around. He wouldn't want you to either."

When all three faces (except for McCoy because he knew how this was going to end) looked highly determined and rebellious, Pike turned hard.

"Jim made a deal with Dreyes to send you to Zenobia for your own safety, but that's not all. You of all people know how far Jim has come and what he has overcome to get to where he is now. For the first time in his life, he has something he wants to return to: you." Pike pointed at them for emphasis. "He's not just protecting you guys. He's protecting his home, which won't be there if you idiots don't get your heads out of your asses and do what I tell you to do!"

He glared them all down. "I don't want to hear another word against this, do you understand me? If not for yourselves, but for Jim. Now, I want you to keep your heads down and do as you're told. For Jim."

Spock, Sulu, and Uhura's shoulders slumped in resignation. Even Spock could not argue against the logic or the higher authority, despite the conflicting emotions.

"Wait! What about Chekov?" burst out Sulu.

Pike gave him a confused frown. "What about Chekov?"

"I think something's happened to him. I haven't heard from him since lunch yesterday. He always takes that alley shortcut home, and I've told him that it was a bad idea. What if he got mugged and got taken somewhere?"

"Doubtful," said McCoy.

Uhura tilted her head curiously at him. "What makes you say that, Leonard?"

"Jim's been teaching the kid some self-defense moves."

"Ah dun think it's bin 'elpful though," Scotty said. "Ah've seen them at it. Jim's too kind ta properly teach Chekov."

Sulu frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it ain't likely tha' Jim'll knock the laddie on his ass. Not much ya can teach if yer handicapped from the start."

"Kirk throws me to the ground all the time!"

"But you're trained in combat," said Uhura, "Whereas Chekov is trained in analysis and deskwork. There's a difference. Still, I don't think you should worry about Chekov. With his skills, he's usually called on by Starfleet to do some work for them. I bet you that he just got caught up with something."

"That's exactly what happened," Pike confirmed, nodding as soon as he figured out where Sulu was going. "I've heard that several programs within the Academy have been hacked and sabotaged by some kid who thought he was as smart as Jim. He's been caught and punished accordingly, but he made a big enough of a mess that they need to bring in Chekov to fix everything. He's been busy since yesterday, which is probably why you haven't seen or heard from him. Chekov's going to be grounded for this mission."

Pike moved back to his desk, sitting down. "I'm actually quite glad he will be too. I'll need his help to dig up anything that'll help out Jim." He looked at them again, taking in all the worried and distraught gazes. "I'll take care of Jim and Chekov. The rest of you, just focus on your mission, alright? Be careful."

The five of them nodded.

"Dismissed."

Without another word, they piled out. Pike had no doubt that they would try to talk to Jim before they were shipped out, but he knew that it wasn't going to happen.

If Jim got caught for killing an Admiral, there was going to be some harsh times ahead of him. The Patriot Act that the Americans used back in the 21st century was sometimes brought back, especially in situations where there was suspected treason. And murder of an Admiral was high on that list.

Jim was criminal number one now, and one that was regarded as highly dangerous because of all his skills. They weren't going to take any chances with Jim. He was going to be locked up in the most secure prison that Starfleet had in San Francisco and refuse him any visitors. And that was after they try to extract information out of him.

This must've been what Jim was talking about last night – the hell in a handbasket.

Pike sighed and rubbed his face tiredly.

He could only hope that Jim's plan was going to work.

Otherwise, no one could save Jim Kirk now.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>So, I managed to end my semester with pretty decent grades. Yay! Purely on accident, haha! But as much as I want to promise that updates will be faster because school's out, I can't. I'm a pretty slow writer and I do have an internship lined up soon, so I'll make updates whenever I can. I do have the next chapter almost done, so that should be up pretty soon. I appreciate you guys sticking around and supporting me!<p>

Thanks for reading and hope you review!

Cheers,

Yuna


	5. Chapter 5: Escape of the Rabbits

**Chapter 5**

**Escape of the Rabbits**

Grunts filled the air, almost hiding the loud sounds of fists pounding against human flesh. The blows were harsh, but nowhere as debilitating as they could be. Jim guessed that being a well-renowned Captain at one point had its benefits. Even being accused of murdering an Admiral, Jim's treatment as prisoner could be much, _much_ worse. For one, Jim wasn't being hung from the ceiling like a piece of dead carcass. He had seen that done to other traitors. And he at least had the 'honor' of _not_ being beaten half-to-death with whips or any other type of torture device.

As it was, Jim as bound to a plain chair with his hands handcuffed behind his back and his legs chained to the legs. He was sporting a black eye and several bruises as well as a bloody nose from the few punches that had been thrown at him.

"Did you or did you not kill Admiral Dreyes, Kirk?" demanded one of his prison guards. "Confess and this will all be over."

He spat some blood out onto the floor, glaring at the soldiers around him. "Hasn't torturing prisoners for information been illegal for hundreds of years?"

That cheekiness resulted in another hard punch to his face. Jim was going to be _pissed_ if his face ended up permanently marked from this shit.

"That law does not pertain to those accused of treason."

"You'll have to prove that first," Jim shot back.

"Admit your guilt!"

"I'll admit that I've done some pretty questionable things: sleeping around with anything that basically breathed, got into more bar fights than I would care to count, or even to drinking Romulan Ale onboard a Starfleet ship – I'm not telling you which one – but I will _not _admit to anything that I didn't. I didn't kill Dreyes."

"You were found at the crime scene with the murder weapon in your hands!"

"Yes, but have you ever heard of the phrase 'at the wrong time, wrong place'? Quite frankly, I'm insulted that you all think so lowly of me. If I was to kill Dreyes – all hypothetically, of course – do you really think that I'd be stupid enough to let myself get caught? Please," Jim scoffed.

A new voice cut into the small, dank room. "That's certainly true. James T. Kirk is known to be a genius, after all."

Jim's head snapped up, peering through the dark to a well-hidden figure by the door. How he had not noticed that man's presence was beyond him, but he kept his face blank as he tried to place the familiar voice.

"But that doesn't mean that geniuses do not make mistakes." The man stepped into the dim light, revealing his identity to be Commander – no, _Captain _ – Royce Wolff. He had a hardened look on his face – all traces of nervousness or adoration that Jim had seen before was gone. Wolff was eying Jim like he was a rabbit with its foot stuck in a clawed-trap.

Jim felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. This was not the same happy, excited man that Jim had met in Dreyes' office. It was rare that Jim had misread someone. It meant that Wolff was a master of manipulation – good enough to fool Jim. But now, with Wolff before him, Jim knew exactly who the young man was.

Wolff was an ambitious man who was willing to spend years and years of acting like he was a good guy so that people would underestimate him and help him whenever he asked. With such a mask, no one ever considered him a threat and he moved up in the world by using that to his advantage, subtly manipulating to get to where he wanted. In a few years after graduating from the Academy, he should have been Captain of his own ship, but then Nero happened and his plans went haywire. Jim took the spotlight and everything that he had worked for fell apart under his fingernails.

Jim had gotten cocky and didn't read past Wolff's portrayed surface. He should've known better, otherwise, he wouldn't have been in this situation with his freedom hanging in the balance otherwise.

"Wolff," Jim greeted coldly.

Royce ignored him and turned to Jim's three prison guards. "You can go. I want to speak to him alone."

"But sir…" protested one.

"Now." Wolff's voice booked no argument and they all quickly took their leave, locking both Jim and Royce alone in the room.

Wolff wandered to the camera that was placed in the right front corner and manually turned it off before he walked slowly back to stand right before Jim's seated figure. "How are you enjoying your treatment, _Captain?_" he smirked, smugness oozing out of his pores.

"It's invigorating," Jim returned dryly. "I assume you're here to gloat?"

"Of course. I would never miss out on an opportunity to rub in the great James Kirk's face."

"You know that these charges will never stick. I didn't do it. What are you stalling for? Why do you need me out of the way temporarily?"

"What makes you think I'm stalling for anything?" Wolff was the picture of innocence.

Jim rolled his eyes. "You know I'm not an idiot. Don't take me as a fool, Wolff. It'll be your last mistake."

Wolff's face twisted, turning angry. "I would never underestimate you, Kirk. You're far too dangerous for that."

"You're the one who killed Dreyes. Who's the dangerous one here?"

"Ah, so you figured it out." Excitement flashed across Royce's eyes, like he was full of anticipation of the game that was afoot.

Jim was completely unfazed. "I'm not a genius for nothing. What are you going to do with my crew?"

"You're not going to ask why I did it?" pouted Wolff.

"I'm not going to waste my time asking questions I know the answers to. Now tell me, Wolff. What are you going to do with my crew?!" snarled Jim.

"At daybreak, I will be taking the _Enterprise_ to Zenobia, as Dreyes agreed to."

Confusion flittered across Jim's face before he had the chance to hide it. Wolff's smirk only grew wider at that, and he continued speaking with such glee that it made Jim want to head-butt the man. "The catch is that it won't be quite as safe as I had let on. You see, my uncle is currently in the midst of a revolution and has taken control of Zenobia. He has requested your crew specifically to keep any subsequent rebellions under control."

Jim's blue eyes widened in horror. "You're going to use them as examples…" he breathed, his tone full of fear for his people. His crew was going to be used to keep people in line, by any means possible. That included torture or worse.

Oh God. It was going to be like Tarsus IV all over again with heads placed on spikes and public floggings and executions to deter any brave souls from doing anything stupid. And this was going to be his _family_ suffering.

"You were right when you told Dreyes that your crew would be targeted simply because they are _your_ people, Kirk. You were always smarter than him, but clearly not clever enough. Have fun figuring a way out of this in time to save your friends."

"Don't you fucking touch them, Wolff!" yelled Jim. "Your fight is with me! Leave them out of it!"

"How can I when it clearly hurts you so much more?" Wolff smiled serenely. "I look forward to seeing you again, Kirk. Good luck!"

"You bastard! I'll fucking kill you!" Jim hollered, straining against his bonds, but there was nothing he could do to stop Wolff from leaving.

The guards came in a second later, took one look at Jim nearly foaming at the mouth with overwhelming anger and fear, and immediately handcuffed hustled him to a maximum security prison.

He was unceremoniously thrown into the pure white room as soon as his cuffs were taken off. Three of the walls were made from the same materials as ship hulls and were nearly impossible to penetrate. The last wall – the 'door' was reinforced glass that was even stronger than the rest of the cell. It was small – barely a six-by-six foot perimeter, but it was enough to have a barren cot on one side towards the back with a white metal chair next to it and a toilet with a sink by the front. A camera in the front right corner blinked green every second, live-recording everything that Jim ever did to a monitor where he was to be watched 24/7.

As soon as the heavy lock engaged, imprisoning him, Jim angrily lifted the chair and threw it harshly against the glass wall. The loud thud made the guard outside his cell jump, and Jim felt immense satisfaction fill him, but he didn't let it distract him.

He didn't have much time. Moving to stand before the left-hand side wall, Jim viciously bit into his right index finger, drawing blood. He scrawled "кролик" three times, each one under the other, onto the pure white with crimson. He had to deepen the cut on his finger a few times to get enough blood to write it all out, and once he was done, he plopped down in the left back corner where he kept his eyes directly on the camera that was facing him.

Jim then proceeded to wait silently, plotting and scheming the entire time.

* * *

><p>"Hey, what did he write on that wall?" Jonathan asked the other guard on duty with him as he stared at the monitors before him.<p>

Lance glanced up from the PADD that he was reading. "I think the guys before us said that it's 'rabbit' in Russian."

"Why did he write 'rabbit'? You think it's code for him to try to escape?"

"You're paranoid as always, Jon," Lance replied, rolling his eyes.

"But this is _the_ Kirk that we're talking about here. Haven't you heard the stories?"

"Yeah, but this is also the Kirk that got caught killing an Admiral. Poor man probably lost his mind after being in space for so long."

Jon gave him a look. "That doesn't happen, Lance."

"It happened to a cousin of mine. The darkness and loneliness drove him mad. I wouldn't be surprised if the same thing happened to a Captain of the Flagship. Shit happens out there, you know? He's probably seen something horrible and snapped."

"Hence 'rabbit'?"

Lance nodded. "Hence 'rabbit'. If he was sane, he would've written something else. Previous guys checked it out anyway. Said that there's no connection in Kirk's life to anything remotely similar to a rabbit."

"It's in Russian."

"So?"

"Why?"

"You question a lot of things, Jon, you know that? We're not paid to ask questions."

"Yeah, but aren't you curious?"

"I've heard that Kirk is fluent in at least seven different languages. Among them is Russian. My bets are that he falls back on Russian when he's upset."

Jonathon looked at Kirk who was sitting in the far left corner, staring so intently at the camera – as if he was staring directly at the two of them. It made Jon uncomfortable, like Kirk's blue eyes were piercing through his soul. "So what has he been doing for the last three hours?"

"Nothing. He wrote on the wall and sat down. He hasn't moved since." Lance shrugged, "Told you, he lost his mind."

"Where's the guard that's supposed to be watching him?"

"Arthur got freaked out by all that staring, so he went to check on the other prisoners."

"Is that safe?"

"Kirk hasn't even moved a finger since the beginning. We're not even sure if he's blinking. Trust me, Jon. It's fine. Even with his skills, I doubt that Kirk can escape from maximum security prison without moving."

"But…"

Lance sighed and tossed his communicator to Jon, who caught it clumsily. "Look, if you're still worried, call Arthur and tell him to swing on by to check on our most prized criminal."

Jon made a face. "Arthur won't be happy about that."

"No, he won't," Lance agreed, returning to his PADD, "And you know that he'll chew you out for it."

"Why don't you tell him? You're our superior!"

"You're the one that's bitching!"

Their argument was interrupted by the crackle of the communicator in Jon's hands.

"_Lance, you there?"_ came a deep and frantic voice.

Lance snatched the device away from Jon and pressed the button. "Yeah, what's up, Arthur?"

"_Uh…Kirk's gone."_

Instantly, alarm lit up in the guard's face and he scanned the monitors again. "What are you talking about? He's sitting where he's been for the last three hours!"

"_I'm standing right in front of his cell. His door's wide open!"_

"That can't be possible!"

"Maybe it's a looped recording?" suggested Jon.

"Shit! Ring the alarms, Arthur! I'll tell Command."

"_I already did! Nothing happened!"_

"What?!"

"_Someone cut off the alarms!"_

"Spread out and look for him! Consider James T. Kirk as armed and dangerous and use any means to bring him down. Do you understand me?"

"_Yes, sir!"_

"Go now!" Lance hung up on Arthur and immediately started to dial for Command as he swept out of the room with Jon following after him. He was seconds from connecting when a fist slammed solidly into his face.

He was out cold before he even realized what happened, and the device clattered to the ground, silent.

Jon was so shocked that he could only gape at his superior and then nervously up at the person who had punched the lights out of Lance.

Bright blue eyes considered him and he gulped as he froze in the presence of the one and only James Kirk. With his face bruised, dried blood from under his nose, and dressed in the black undershirt of Starfleet uniforms, Kirk looked formidable and absolutely terrorizing.

With a swift movement, Kirk smashed the communicator with his foot, completely ignoring the passed out man on the floor and glared at the remaining guard. "You have two options: you can either follow the fate of your little friend here or you can keep your mouth shut and not call for any help. If I find out that you call after I'm gone, I'll come back for you and take you out, even if it's the last thing I do. Nod if you understand me."

Jon nodded quickly.

"So what do you choose?" Kirk said, cracking his knuckles as he moved menacingly forward. His grey-blue eyes were so cold, so terrifying.

"T-the second o-one…" stammered Jon.

A smile broke out on Kirk's face. "Good choice." He started to move past Jon, but he hesitated at the last second.

Turning, he gave Jon a hard stare. "You should probably lie down on the ground and pretend that I knocked you out too. Otherwise, you'll have a hard time explaining why you disobeyed direct orders and let me go, even if you were under duress." Kirk winked at him. "Just a piece of advice from someone with experience. See ya!"

With that, Kirk was gone, sprinting down the hallways that were soon to be swarming with guards that were aiming to take him down, dead or alive.

And yet, Jim still took the time to help out someone who was supposed to be his enemy, despite having just killed an Admiral a day ago.

James T. Kirk was truly an enigma, and Jonathon couldn't help but wonder if the fallen Captain was actually guilty of the charges that he was accused of. He kind of wished that Kirk wasn't, but Jon was a bit of a dreamer. He still had faith in his hero, even if he was breaking out of imprisonment.

He just hoped that Kirk knew what he was doing, because he was going to be Starfleet's number one most wanted man after this stunt.

Well, if he managed to escape, that was.

* * *

><p>Jim could feel his arms and legs getting number and number as time went on by, but he refused to move even an inch from his position on the ground in his cell. He couldn't if he wanted his plan to work, and he remained a statue, staring at the camera before him.<p>

Within the first hour, Jim had already gotten the patterns of his prison down. The light blinked green every three seconds and his guard passed by every thirty minutes. In the beginning, his guard would stand before his cell, keeping an ever watchful eye on him, but Jim knew that the expression on his face was more than disconcerting and unsettled people. He had made it so after all. Within twenty minutes, his guard had started to shift around uneasily. Jim didn't move or stop glaring. Ten minutes later, the guard had commed in that he was going on rounds and proceeded to leave.

Two hours passed and shifts changed, but Jim didn't even move a finger in that time.

Three hours later, the blinking light stopped. Jim grinned and watched as the camera whirl as its recording properties was remotely turned off. He stood, shaking out all the pins and needles in his limbs, and walked slowly to the door that whooshed open the moment he approached it. Turning briefly, Jim gave the camera a smirk and a salute and then walked out as a free man.

Training kicked in and Jim instantly took note of all the cameras in the hall. They weren't a huge concern – he had someone on the outside taking care of that – but habits die hard. Jim stayed in blind spots and avoided the passing guards. He had to move quickly – he had about ten minutes before his current guard made his way back to his cell and discover that he had escaped.

As quiet as a shadow, Jim made his way to the control room. He had to stop all communications to buy himself enough time to get out before the entire Starfleet security was on his ass. By the time he skidded by the door, he could hear panicked and angry shouts from within the room. Readying himself, Jim stood in an offensive position, his fists out. The second that door slid open and a man stepped out, Jim _slammed_ his hand into the guard's face. The hapless man collapsed onto the ground before he even had the chance to figure out what had happened, dropping his communicator onto the floor by Jim's foot.

Without missing a beat, Jim broke it and turned menacingly at the man that was frozen in place a few steps behind his unconscious comrade. His perceiving blue eyes easily read the remaining guard's desire to recapture Jim. Instead, there was some awe in the man's expressions and Jim knew that he didn't have to do much to cover for himself.

Throwing out some threats, he was pleased that the guard was willing to just let him go, and with one last shred of compassion, Jim gave him some advice to stay out of trouble. There was a brief flicker of confusion and sincere doubt (probably regarding Jim's guilt), but Jim didn't stick around to find out whether or not the guard listened to him.

He rounded another corner, sprinting through the halls, occasionally ducking into corners to hide from wandering guards. A few times, Jim was almost caught, but he managed to escape notice with minimal contact. By the time he reached the outskirts of the prison, he had only knocked out three guards in total – not enough to set off any alarms.

He was almost free.

The doors leading to the outside automatically opened for him as he approached them. Jim didn't even hesitate to go through them, taking a sharp right turn towards the hanger. Another corner passed and Jim found himself coming to an abrupt stop.

Leaning casually against the wall, hidden slightly by the shadows, was Christopher Pike. The elder man was dressed in his Starfleet uniform, looking every inch like a man who was there to stop Jim.

"Pike…" Jim greeted, a little breathless. His eyes darted across to the open space before them and all the ships that sat waiting for someone to pilot them.

"Hope you didn't have too much trouble getting here," Pike said. There was an unreadable expression on his face, and Jim attributed it to worry that the Admiral was trying hard to suppress.

"Nope, thanks to you."

"That was all you. You left me some fairly detailed instructions. I feel like I should be surprised that you saw this far ahead, but it's you, so I pretty much expect it now." Pike grinned proudly at Jim.

Jim ignored the flutter in his heart at that and suppressed the little bubble of happiness that Pike's approval had formed. "Everything all set?"

"Yeah," he responded as he handed Jim a backpack who quickly slung it over his shoulder.

"You weren't seen, were you, Pike?"

Despite the curtness of the question, Pike knew that it was just because of Jim's fear that Pike would be discovered helping a charged criminal.

Pike snorted. "Who do you think I am? Of course I wasn't."

"Good. Stay low, Pike. I don't want you associated with my escape."

At that, Pike became more serious, his eyes glinting with steel. "Jim, you know that if you do this, you'll be the most wanted man in all of the Federation. If your name isn't cleared, you'll be running for the rest of your life, as a fugitive."

Jim just smiled sadly at Pike. "I'm always running, Pike, and I'll always _be_ running. The only difference now is that I can actually see what's chasing after me."

"I can't protect you from this, Jim. The next time we meet, it may be on opposite sides." The pain in Pike's voice was ever so clear, making his words seem slightly strained.

"I know, and I'm sorry to do this to you, Chris, but this is my family. I can't let them down like this. You understand, right?"

Pike lifted up a chin boldly, his expressions determined. "I do, but just tell me this, Jim. You're throwing away your future, your freedom, and your life. Is it worth it?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes. They're worth everything."

A small smile broke out on Pike's face. "That's all I need to hear. Hanger 6, Lot B. He's waiting for you. Be careful, son, and take care."

Jim couldn't help himself and launched forward, hugging Pike tightly. His heart was aching, unable to truly let go of his father figure. Pike had always been there for him, pulling him out into the light. Words could not describe how much he owed the man and how much he cared for him.

He felt Pike's arms return the gesture. "Go save your family, Jim. I'll make sure you all have a home to come back to."

"Thank you, Chris," Jim breathed.

"I'm proud of you, kid. Don't ever forget that," Pike said, giving Jim one last pat and pulling away. "Now go. Don't want to keep them waiting."

"You stay safe, okay? Don't drag yourself down with me. I'm not worth your career, Chris."

Pike just calmly patted Jim's cheek in a fatherly manner. His eyes shone with gentleness and love. "Yes, you are. Now get, before that boy gets impatient and leaves you behind."

Jim wanted to protest Pike's words, but he knew that he didn't have the time. With emotion choking him, Jim gave Pike one last nod and turned, running the hangers. Pike watched his boy disappear into a small exploratory shuttle and waited the five minutes it took for it to fly off into the starry abyss before he started to head back to his office.

This was all that he could do as of that moment. He had faith that Jim would be fine, despite the worry that sat heavily on his chest, but even if he was, it wouldn't mean anything if Jim couldn't come back.

Pike was going to prove Jim's innocence, and if that meant that digging around would put his career in danger, then so be it.

Jim was worth it all.

* * *

><p>The door to the shuttle was already open and waiting for Jim by the time he reached it. With his heart pounding, Jim leapt onboard. Immediately, he noticed the two long, rectangular safety containers that were tied down to both sides of the ship. Both were white and probably six-by-four feet. Pressing the button to release and open one, Jim shoved his backpack into it and closed it. There was a small sound of whirling as the contraption locked in place.<p>

Turning, he moved towards the front of the ship, plopping down at the pilot's seat and started to flick switches and press buttons to close the door and prepare the ship for liftoff.

When everything was set, Jim swiveled slightly in his chair to address his quiet copilot that sat next to him.

"Hey, Chekov, how's it going?" he grinned.

The young Navigator – dressed in all black, like Jim – was smiling broadly, his eyes shining with excitement and happiness at seeing his Captain. "Took you long enough, Keptin. I hawe been vaiting for a vhile now," joked Chekov.

"Thanks for turning off all the cameras for me, Chekov, and buying us time. We probably have another half-hour before they realize that I'm gone and send the whole fleet after us."

Jim started the initiation sequence. The shuttle rose up and started moving slowly through the hanger as Jim carefully piloted them out to the open sky.

"Vhy did ve hawe to vait three hours, Keptin? My codes hawe been implanted in ze system ze moment you vere arrested. You did not hawe to stick around for zeir…" Chekov struggled for the word here as he angrily gazed at Jim's bruises. "…treatment."

"Three hours is just enough time for them to drop their guards and ensure that I can get out without a hitch. One alarm goes off and I may have had to knock out everyone in the building, which means that I wouldn't be getting out unscathed. Trust me, I was more than impatient to get out, but this had to be done. Good job with keeping up with all the improv though, Chekov. I definitely threw a wrench or two into our original plan."

Jim shot Chekov another smile, "I'm glad everything went smoothly though. All you, I assume?"

"Of course," Chekov smirked. "I am a genius, after all."

"No stealing other people's lines, Chekov. That's just rude."

"Vould you hawe preferred zat I leave you in jail?"

"Not particularly."

"Zen I can say vhatever I vant."

Jim chuckled. "Touché, Chekov. Glad to see that you still have your cheekiness about you."

"And I am glad to see zat you are alright."

At that, the humor in Jim's expressions faded away. Clearly, something was still on his mind, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he focused on getting them out of Earth.

Comfortable, yet tense silence fell between the two of them, leaving Chekov to truly take in how Jim looked. There was a tightness in Jim's face, the clenching of his jaws, and he was reminded of the time when Jim had grabbed him off the streets and into an abandoned flat.

* * *

><p><em>Strong hands pulled Chekov inwards, and though he struggled, he couldn't seem to fight off his attacker. Any screams he made were muffled and even if he did manage to let out a squeak, he knew that no one could hear him. <em>

_Suddenly, he felt the man behind him lean closer and whisper into his ear, "Relax, Chekov, it's just me."_

_The voice was familiar and sent waves of relief rushing through the Russian. Immediately, he stopped struggling and he felt the hands release him._

_He swung around, facing Jim with wide eyes and relief in his expressions. "Keptin! Where hawe you been? Ve hawe been so vorried about you!"_

_Jim raised an index finger to his lips. "Shh. Keep your voice down. I'm still undercover," he said quietly._

"_Oh. Sorry…" Chekov apologized, his voice lowering to almost a whisper._

_Jim smiled faintly. Everything about him seemed strained. Taut lines were drawn on his face, no doubt from the constant hardened masks that he had to keep on. He seemed thinner, but his muscles were toned against his black shirt. The hood of his jacket had ruffled his hair; his blue eyes were cold and harsh. _

_The worry for his friend came back like a freight train. Chekov took a step closer to Jim. "Keptin, are you alright?"_

"_Yeah, I'm fine. Look, I don't have much time, but I need your help, Chekov."_

"_Anything."_

"_I'll be asking a lot from you – you will be risking your career and possibly your future for this."_

_There was no hesitation. "Anything. Vhat do you need?"_

"_I need you to resign from the _Enterprise_."_

_Chekov frowned for a second, but he didn't comment, letting Jim continue without interruption._

"_Claim that you've had enough of space or something and you're going to work for Pike. I'll be leaving Pike instructions later today and he'll keep you updated every step of the way. Soon, I'm going to need you to hack into Starfleet's system and take control of the cameras. You can do that, yeah?"_

_Chekov nodded fervently._

"_We'll have a codeword. If I say it or signal it to you, it means that everything is a go. Keep count of how many times I indicate it. Each time will be equivalent to one hour of wait time. You also need to be prepared to ready a shuttle for a quick getaway." Jim paused, giving him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I know this is pretty vague, but I can't tell you much anyway. You need to work with Pike for this whole thing to succeed."_

"_Keptin, vhat is it zat you zink will happen?" he asked cautiously._

"_I don't know, but whatever happens, I need you to be prepared to listen to whatever Pike tells you to do. I'll have everything laid out for him."_

"_Understood. Vhat shall be our codevord?"_

_Jim sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. You pick. It has to be something that's obvious to us, but no one else."_

_Chekov smiled broadly, the perfect word popping into his head. "кролик."_

_A fond smile started to spread across Jim's face as he remembered Yuri the rabbit that was still sitting in his bookshelf back on the _Enterprise_. "That's perfect." And then a second later, any signs of affection melted away, leaving behind an expressionless mask again. "Sorry, Chekov. I've got to go. The longer I'm here, the greater the chance of being discovered. Resign from the _Enterprise_ as soon as you can, but don't draw attention to yourself. Don't tell Spock, Sulu, Bones, or anyone else about this, okay? You tell someone and I might end up dead. Once you've gotten out, wait for Pike to contact you. Lay low and stay out of sights, got it? And for heaven's sake, stay safe."_

"_I vill, Keptin."_

_Jim gave him a strained gaze before throwing up his hood again, covering his eyes. "Not for long, Chekov. Not for long."_

* * *

><p>He was gone before Chekov had the chance to ask what he meant. Retrospectively, Chekov realized that Jim had known that he was going to be forcibly removed from command and had set a plan in motion to counter it. Chekov felt more than honored that Jim had turned to him to help him escape and make his bid for freedom.<p>

The Navigator settled back in his chair, watching the stars come closer and closer as they started to break through the Earth's atmosphere.

"So, vhere are ve going?" Chekov asked, glancing over at his friend.

"Zenobia," came the curt answer. Jim didn't look back at him, focusing on maintaining their current flight plan.

Chekov frowned. "Zat is still under ze jurisdiction of ze Federation."

"I'm aware."

"You vill still be wanted zere."

"I know."

"Zen vhy are you going zere?"

"I got it wrong. I thought that by sending the _Enterprise _there, they would be safe, but Wolff's the one who set me up. Whatever they're flying into, it's going to be a trap that no one, not even Spock, will see coming."

"Does Pike knov zis?"

"I didn't have time to let him know. He thinks we're still following the original plan."

Suddenly, as the darkness and stars surrounded them, Jim turned and cast a long, hard look on his face. The stars reflected in those deep, blue eyes, making Chekov feel as though he were drowning in them. "We're going to go save our family, Chekov, consequences be damned. You with me?"

There was only one answer Chekov could give. He cracked a smile at Jim. "Always."

No one messed with their family. Not if they had anything to say about it.

They were going to bring Wolff to his knees, and if they discovered that there was no one left to save? Well, then the universe was going to burn.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>So, I totally lied. I'm still as slow as ever at updating this story, but I promise that I'm working on it! I've just been really busy with my internship and whatnot. I know these are all excuses, but I swear that I'm working on this story!<p>

I do want to thank everyone for all your kind words and encouragement! Thank you for rooting for me and my grades! Thank you for all the congratulations! I truly appreciate each and every single one of you!

I am working on this story, albeit slowly. I hope you all still stick around and support me!

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and please review!

Cheers,

Yuna


	6. Chapter 6: Checkmate

**Chapter 6**

**Checkmate**

"Were you able to see Jim before we left?" McCoy whispered to Spock, keeping one eye out on Captain Wolff the entire time.

The entire Bridge was fairly quiet. No one had the heart to laugh or chatter when there was a stranger on their Captain's chair and a no-name Redshirt in Chekov's. Wolff didn't seem to mind the quietness and continued to work alongside an Ensign that the Command crew had never seen before.

It wasn't unusual for a new Captain to bring in new people when he took command, but the majority of the crew was still Jim's men. Their loyalties still lay with their true Captain even though the news of his murder charge had spread throughout the universe. Many didn't believe it. Some did, but that was only because they had seen what Jim was truly capable of. Even then, if they believed that Jim killed Dreyes, it was only because it was justified.

The point was, whoever was left from the original _Enterprise_ crew, wasn't happy with the new recruits, especially because they all seemed to be abnormally large – hulked out with tons of muscles. Like hired hands, but no one said anything against it out of fear of losing their jobs.

Spock turned and glanced at Wolff briefly before shaking his head to McCoy's question. "No. He is considered highly dangerous and no one, not even the Admirals, are allowed visitation."

The two cautiously watched Wolff smile brightly at the buffed up Ensign and chatted with him.

McCoy kept his tone at a low mumble. "What do you think about the new hires?"

"Perhaps this is a conversation for another time, Doctor," Spock said carefully.

Bewildered, McCoy slammed his mouth shut, and just in time too.

A hand touched his shoulder and it took all of McCoy's willpower to not flinch at it. "What are you two talking about?" Wolff asked boisterously.

"There's a vaccine that I need to administer to Commander Spock here," McCoy lied smoothly, "But right now, it's incompatible to his system and I was making some tweaks to the serum. I was just checking with him to make sure that it'll work before I use it."

"Good, good." Wolff paused. "I have a question for you guys, and I'd like a serious answer. Do you think the crew is taking well to me? It seems a bit quiet. There're too many whispers that cut short when I walk by. Does the crew not like me?" There was a pout on his face, and it made McCoy want to slap the man silly for having such a ridiculous expression.

"The crew is unaccustomed to not having Captain Kirk onboard," Spock replied. "Captain Kirk has a particular rapport with the crew. Their silence may be due to the absence of Captain Kirk and have nothing to do with your general likeness amongst the crew."

Wolff didn't correct Spock on his present tense when speaking about Jim, nor did he note that Spock purposefully didn't say if Wolff was liked or not.

"I hope that they warm up to me soon. I don't expect to stay here very long. I do believe that Captain Kirk is innocent and he will be returning to the _Enterprise _soon." Wolff gave them both a reassuring smile. "We're going to arrive at Zenobia in a couple of hours. I hope you two and the rest of the Command crew join me when we beam down."

"Is that an order, sir?" McCoy asked, saying the title in a begrudging tone.

"Of course not!" Wolff looked almost taken aback. "But I do believe that Captain Kirk and Admiral Pike did advise you to join me on shore. Will you join me?"

"Yes, sir," Spock replied before McCoy could protest more and be thrown into the brig for disrespecting their immediate superior. "It is written in our duties to accompany the Captain on his missions."

"Good, I look forward to it. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, returning to the Captain's – no, Jim's seat.

"You're excused…" McCoy swore under his breath. He nudged Spock. "See you in a bit. Remember our plan."

"I have a near-eidetic memory, Doctor. It is highly unlikely for me to forget something, especially one that concerns Jim," Spock replied, his voice low and quiet.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "You can stuff it, ya damn hobgoblin," was his parting remark before he exited the Bridge via the turbolift.

With the doctor gone, Spock turned to glance at Sulu and Uhura, each sharing a meaningful look, as he recalled the moments just before they boarded the _Enterprise_.

_Pike had approached them, hidden slightly in the shadows. Spock was the one to see the older man first and subtly nudged McCoy, Sulu, and Uhura towards him._

"_Jim?" was the first thing out of McCoy's mouth._

"_Still locked up, but he gave me instructions. We're breaking him out," Pike replied quietly._

"_Who's 'we'?" asked Sulu._

"_Chekov and I. Jim brought him in a couple of days ago."_

"_Wait, that's why Chekov went missing? Because _Kirk_ kidnapped_ _him?! You told us that Chekov got called onto duty!"_

"_I lied, obviously. Everything had to be on the down low."_

"_And it's beside the point, Sulu. Stay on topic," snapped McCoy, turning to Pike. "You said Jim had a plan? He saw this coming?"_

"_Yeah. Paid me a late night visit and gave me a set of instructions for every possible scenario that you could think of. Well, that Jim could think of." _

_Which meant that Jim had definitely foreseen this all._

_Spock frowned. "Why did Jim ask to be broken out of prison? Does he realize that he will become the most wanted man through the universe?"_

"_He's aware, but someone's trying to frame him, which means they can't risk him getting freed because there won't be enough evidence to convict him. They'll try to get rid of him before that happens and probably make it look like a suicide. He's not safe locked up."_

"_Will he be safer freed?" questioned Uhura._

_Pike shook his head. "I don't know, but it's a risk we have to take. As for you guys, keep an eye out. Dreyes was killed, which means that everything is up in the air now. We don't know anything, except that Dreyes is dead and Jim's in jail. We can't even determine whether or not Dreyes was part of this scheme, but he did set this mission up. You have to be careful."_

"_Understood," responded Spock. "Seeing how Wolff was chosen by Dreyes to take over the Captaincy of the _Enterprise_, Mr. Sulu and I will continue to monitor his actions as his second-in-command on the Bridge. Nyota, you will track all communications that involve Wolff."_

"_You'll also have to look into Dreyes' death," Pike said. "Jim's going to be running for his life, and despite his many skills, he may not have as much time to clear his own name."_

_Sulu looked confused. "He'll have Chekov to help him though."_

_Scotty rolled his eyes. "Ya really think tha' Jim'll let 'im stay an' be labeled as a fugitive too? No, Chekov'll be sent back ta us, whether he wants ta or not."_

"_Exactly," Pike nodded. "We can't count on Chekov to help out Jim for too long. As soon as Jim's clear, he'll send Chekov back to the _Enterprise_. I'll look into everything on my end." He paused. "I do want to be clear about something."_

_Pike's expressions were determined. "We can prove Jim's innocence and reinstate him as Captain of the _Enterprise_, but it'll all mean nothing if he doesn't have a home to go back to. Remember, Jim ran to keep you all safe because that's how much you mean to him. He's never had that before and I know he'll break if anything happens to any one of you. So keep in mind: your safety and wellbeing is priority one. Jim will always fight to find a way back as long as you keep to that. Do you understand me?"_

_Uhura gave Pike a small, warm smile. "The same goes to you, Pike. You're family too."_

"_Yeah, don't go poking your nose too deep, ya hear, Pike?" grouched McCoy. "Unlike these hapless idiots, you don't have me and my hyposprays close by."_

_Pike couldn't help it and chuckled a bit. "I can't tell if I should feel fortunate or not about your hyposprays, McCoy. Jim's got some pretty gruesome stories about those."_

"_He deserved it all," McCoy huffed. _

"_I'm sure," Pike smiled. "Love makes people do silly things, doesn't it?"_

_They all thought about the hardships that Jim was going through just to give some semblance of safety and protection to them. There was no guarantee, but Jim had to take the chance anyway, despite throwing away the life that he had known and his entire future for them._

_Love did make people do silly things._

_Jim was the epitome of that, but then and again, so were they._

Pike had left with a parting, "Be safe," before disappearing back into the shadows in a manner that was eerily similar to that of Jim's. Sometimes, they forgot that Pike used to be one of Starfleet's top-notch Captains in his time - he was far more skilled than what most people gave him credit for.

Spock felt a presence ease up to him. He didn't have to look to recognize the light steps of Uhura. She made sure that no one was in earshot, but even still, when she spoke, she talked so quietly that only a Vulcan could hear her.

"Leonard still grumbling?" she asked.

"Yes," Spock responded, his tone just as quiet.

"Knowing him, he probably won't stop until Kirk's back."

"I agree. We must uncover the evidence that will acquit Jim as soon as humanly possible."

Uhura smiled easily - something that was bit rare since Kirk had run off. "He's getting on your nerves more than usual, isn't he?"

Spock didn't reply, which was an answer unto itself.

"He's just worried. I mean, we all are, but it's always been Kirk and Leonard, joined at the hip. We can't understand the depth of how the two feel about being separated. We just have to let him grouch until we can get Kirk back."

She eyed several of the new recruits who sat quietly at their stations. Since they had been on board, they had hardly spoken to anyone except Wolff. It almost seemed as though the crew of the Enterprise was completely segregated from that of those who were hired on by Dreyes. It made sense in a way - the crew of the Enterprise was loyal to Kirk and Kirk alone. Having a new Captain onboard just felt wrong.

At the same time, Wolff didn't try to integrate his people with theirs. Wolff made it very clear from the start that he wasn't there to replace Kirk, saying that his position was only temporary until Jim's innocence got sorted out. Though the crew didn't like Wolff on principle, it didn't seem like he was a bad guy. His body language was always open and welcoming and unlike Jim, he didn't look like he was ever hiding anything. Jim was charming and charismatic - full of compassion and he genuinely cared for everyone and everything - but there was a darkness surrounding him that was brought on by his horrific past. Wolff painted a picture of a man who had worked hard to be where he was, but generally never met any true hardships along the way. He was untainted, in a way.

It was hard to see him as the big bad wolf that was trying to huff and puff their home down, at least in Uhura's eyes. As a linguist, she had been taught to see things from an individual's perspective. It helped her better understand the subtle cultural nuances as she learned each language.

But everyone else was still reeling from losing Kirk. They didn't even try to see past what they had depicted Wolff as in their minds. Still, the circumstances in which Wolff came to power were extremely questionable and wrought with suspicion. Uhura may be open-minded, but she was far from a naïve fool.

"What do you think of Wolff, Spock?" Uhura questioned. "What's your logical analysis of him?"

Spock raised an eyebrow at her. "Why do you ask that, Nyota?"

"It's just that what I know of him and what I read off him is different. Is it the same for you?"

"Have you asked the rest of the crew?"

"I've only asked Sulu and Scotty. Both don't like him just because he's not Kirk, but not because of who he is. And I'm not even going to bother asking Leonard. I know how he feels. So I'm curious: how do you feel, coming from a Vulcan standpoint?"

Spock contemplated it, hesitating for only a second. "Putting the issue regarding Jim aside, I agree that his personality is not one that I find disagreeable or distasteful. However, my instincts are telling me to not trust him."

Now it was Uhura's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Your instincts? You sound like Kirk."

"I have always trusted my instincts," Spock said, a little bit miffed, "I simply do not express it as often as Jim does."

"So are those instincts biased?"

"I am a Vulcan. My reasoning is founded on logic, not emotions."

"Then why don't you trust him? Everything about him screams openness."

"That is why I do not trust him. Everyone has something to hide. He seems to be overcompensating in order to cover for something. We have seen Jim do the same when he attempts to keep something from us, such as his time off-planet when he was thirteen."

It was true – when they had just met Jim, he was the cheeriest and happiest man that they had ever met. He was always chatting, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. His garrulous nature gave the illusion that he was up-front and candid. Even now, Uhura and the rest were shocked and baffled each time they learned more about the dark nature of Jim's past and all the hell that he had been through.

Uhura was beginning to see what Spock was speaking of. She patted him on the upper arm. "Kirk's rubbing off on you." She smiled coyly as she left. "It's a good look on you, Spock."

Spock was about to argue against her, saying how it wasn't humanly possible to have "a look rub off" on him, but she was gone and back at her station before he even had a chance to. He turned, glancing back at Wolff, surreptitiously studying Dreyes' protégé.

Wolff was animatedly chatting with the Ensign who had replaced Chekov. No matter how Spock read him, Nyota was correct – everything about him screamed openness and honesty.

And it just made Spock doubt him even more.

For the hundredth and fifth time since Spock had returned to the _Enterprise_ without her true Captain, Spock found himself wondering once more: what would Jim do?

* * *

><p>Upon arrival at Zenobia, Wolff called in the Command crew to his ready room for a short briefing. Spock, McCoy, Sulu, Uhura, and Scotty sat around the oblong table with Wolff standing at the head with his arms clasped behind his back. The only people who didn't look bored or expressionless was Uhura and Spock – McCoy, Sulu, and Scotty had matching hardened and slightly angry looks that went well with their crossed arms as they glared at Wolff.<p>

"Thank you for coming," Wolff said.

"What do you want, Wolff?" McCoy snapped, ignoring Uhura's warning look. "We're all very busy people."

Wolff was completely unfazed by McCoy's rude remark and continued speaking. "We'll be landing in Zenobia very soon, and I just wanted to make sure you all were kept up to speed with the reason why we're heading there. I know Admiral Dreyes told Captain Kirk that you were being sent there for safe-keeping, but there is deeper plot afoot."

He started to pace back and forth. "In the last few months, we've been getting murmurs of a possible uprising was underway. Since I have connections to Zenobia – my uncle is on the High Council – I was tasked to ensure that all is alright on planet."

"What sort of trouble did Admiral Dreyes and yourself foresee?" asked Spock. "And what is the source of it?"

"There's a group of people who have become disenchanted with the Federation. More accurately, they've become afraid of Captain Kirk and fear that he'll destroy the peace that Starfleet keeps."

"Why?" questioned Uhura, completely confused. "Kirk's the one who saved the Federation."

"Several times," Sulu added.

"You of all people should know about Kirk's reputation. One drop of his name and it'll send fear through even the most hardened man. That fear makes them dangerous – it means that they'll do whatever they can to eliminate the threat, which is why I suspect Dreyes is dead and Kirk is locked up."

Spock looked at Wolff curiously. "You know of the plot against Captain Kirk?"

"Of course I do. Dreyes filled me in."

"Then do you know the bastards that are behind all this?" McCoy grouched out.

"No, only that they call themselves 'the Alliance'. Now, we do know that they are headquartered at Zenobia and they've already become to move. Cries for help have been leaked, transmitting to Dreyes. The entire world is afraid of another Governor Kodos, and this situation can easily become something like Tarsus IV, except with a different root cause. So our mission is to beam down and quash the rebellion before it gets to that point. We don't know how far the situation has gotten, but we have to do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of the citizens of the Federation."

"Does Jim know 'bout any of this?" asked Scotty, speaking up for the first time since the beginning of this meeting.

"No, we told him a different story."

Scotty sat up straighter, frowning. "Why?"

"We wanted Kirk to focus on himself and keeping himself safe. We need him, more than he knows."

Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on the door, followed by a very anxious voice. "Captain Wolff! Captain Wolff!"

"What is it?" Wolff called out, "Come in!"

A sweaty, panicking-looking Ensign came tumbling in. "Captain! We just got word: it looks like war is about to break out on the surface!"

Immediately, Wolff was in action, sweeping across the room quickly and efficiently. Spock and the rest followed.

"Gear up the Security team and anyone else who's trained for combat! We need to beam down, now! No casualties, do you understand me?" barked Wolff, belting on a weapon and arming himself.

Spock and the rest of the Command crew was immediately on the move – all, even Chekov, Scotty, and Uhura had undergone extra training in order to be cleared for combat, just so they could protect and defend their friends and family. What they didn't realize as they were gearing themselves up was that only a few of Wolff's men got ready with the rest of them. The others slinked away, disappearing into the depths of the ship. With all the adrenaline that was running through the Command crew, it wasn't too difficult to slip away unnoticed.

Within a matter of minutes, Spock, Sulu, Uhura, Scotty, McCoy, and Wolff along with the majority of the Security team were on the transporter pad. Wolff and his men stood outside of the circle, slightly off to the side.

"Energize," barked Wolff.

White lights swirled. Spock blinked once and the pristine white walls of the _Enterprise_ melted away, replaced by a large, grassy clearing before a medieval-like stone castle. It was small, however. Nothing too grandiose. It stood on a small hill, barely towering over its surroundings. There wasn't even a moat. Its greatest defense was a drawstring bridge to its entrance, but judging by the rust on the iron chains, it hadn't been raised in a very long time. The general vicinity was surrounded by a thick forest of trees and shrubbery, and oddly enough, people.

They had beamed down in the middle of a large circle composed of fifty or so humans, both men and women, dressed in plain clothes. Each was carrying a pitchfork or some sort of homemade bat as weaponry, but despite the fact that they were armed, it was clear that they were civilians, not soldiers. None of them wore any armor and tracks ran down their cheeks, as if they had been crying and the tears washed away a bit of dirt that was on their face. More importantly, they were all trembling and clearly afraid.

But that didn't change the fact that they were pointing weapons at soldiers of Starfleet.

Spock and the rest of the landing party of the _Enterprise_ slowly reached around to place their hands slightly above their phasers.

"Ma'am," Spock said calmly to a middle-aged woman in a simple dress. "Put down your arms. We mean you no harm."

She shook her head tearfully, raising her pitchfork higher. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But they have our children. We can't…" She broke off, fear cutting off her words.

"What do you mean they have your children?" Uhura asked.

"She means that you should all put down your arms," said Wolff loudly.

Everyone swung around to stare at Wolff. Their "Captain" was standing a slight distance away, behind the lines of civilians, with his small number of men beside him. All but Wolff had their phasers out; half were directed at the crew and the other half at the men and women who were acting as their shields.

"Wolff, what the hell are you doing?" McCoy yelled out.

Wolff chuckled. "I've heard about you, Doctor. You really do live up to the reputation as Kirk's bark."

Spock took a menacing step forward.

"Don't you even think about it, Commander," Wolff snapped out, now raising his own weapon to point it directly at the Vulcan. "You may be Kirk's bite, but even you won't do anything with a gun to your head."

"Vulcans do not succumb to fear," Spock replied lowly. "I am not afraid of a gun to my head. I would suggest you lower your weapon before I forcibly remove it for you."

Wolff shrugged. "That may be true, but what if I point the gun at someone else?" Without hesitation, he changed his target and fired before anyone could even blink an eye.

An elderly man – probably in his sixties – fell crumpled to the ground, dead before he even touch the grass. The rest of the citizens flinched – a few gasped and broke out into tears – but none dared to move.

"You bastard!" screamed Uhura. Her phaser was immediately pointed at him.

"Don't move, Lieutenant," warned Wolff. "Think it through. Yes, you all can probably overpower us and take us down, but not before we kill a few innocent lives here. And their blood will be on your hands. The _Enterprise_ has the reputation of actually caring about people. I wouldn't want dear old Captain Kirk to be disappointed in you all for letting innocent people die in cold blood. Now, what say you all lay down your arms and come peacefully, or I'll tell my men to kill every single civilian on this goddamn planet."

Hesitation was still clear in the body language of the Security team, but they knew to not test Wolff. He had already killed once – with no ounce of remorse. He meant business, and if they dared to even breathe the wrong way, they just knew that he was going to carry out his threat.

If they could just reach the _Enterprise _and let them know what was going on, then they could easily turn the tables on Wolff and his men.

But, as if Wolff could read their minds, Wolff immediately started speaking again. "Don't even think about reaching for your communicators to call for help. It wouldn't work anyway. I am a genius in my own merit. I wrote a viral program into _Enterprise's_ system. No communications in or out. In fact, there's no way on or off without my consent. And if anyone tries anything? Well, my men who are still onboard will make sure that they won't cause any more trouble, if you catch my drift."

It was then when every single line connected. Everything – from the very beginning of when they learned that someone was after Jim to the point where Jim disappeared on them and was arrested.

"You planned this. You planned this whole thing!" shouted McCoy.

Wolff clapped slowly, the sarcasm obvious. "Well done, Doctor. Yes, I planned this. I'm the one who killed Dreyes and framed Kirk. I'm also the one who pushed for the orders to bring the _Enterprise_ to Zenobia."

"To what end?" Spock asked, his tone far from his usual calmness.

"To take Kirk down," snarled Wolff. "To bring him to his knees."

Sulu was immediately on defense. "What did he ever do to you?"

All of sudden, Wolff lost his composure and all his anger boiled to the surface. "He took away _everything_!" And then he clearly spent some effort to draw himself back in. He plastered a fake smile on his face again – the one that they had all grown accustomed to over the last few days. It made them wonder, how long had Wolff kept that mask on? How long had his malevolent plot been in play?

"But that's a story for another time. All you need to know is that I win, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Wolff grinned broadly and turned to pat one of his men on the shoulder. "Disarm all of them and throw them into the dungeon. Let them rot there."

"You won't get away with this, Wolff!" shouted McCoy as Wolff started to walk into the castle.

At that, Wolff turned around again to face them. "I do believe that I will, Doctor. Your precious Captain is locked up and should be dead soon. And you? Well, I'll take my sweet time executing you all one by one while telling Starfleet that you all had a terrible, terrible accident that I tried so desperately to prevent. I'll be a hero. The rest of you? Your name will rot in hell along with your Captain."

Wolff showed his true face, smirking with a wolfish smile. "This is checkmate, Doctor. For you and Kirk."

* * *

><p>"I cannot believe this happened to us," sighed Sulu. "Again."<p>

"We're definitely getting way too used to being locked up," Uhura agreed.

They were all kept in their own cells: Uhura, Sulu, and Scotty were adjacent to each other while Spock and McCoy were placed across from them in a similar fashion. Each prison was composed of thick, cast-iron that even Spock couldn't break, but the walls were also reinforced with an electric current, so if they tried to do anything and escape, they would be shocked unconscious first. Spock was the first to realize this – he had woken up two hours later with his muscles aching and a pounding headache.

It had been about a day since their capture and subsequent imprisonment, and there were still more questions than answers, despite knowing that Wolff was behind it all.

The hatred and anger for Wolff was still fresh in their minds.

"I still don't understand what they mean that they have their children," Uhura said from where she was sitting in the middle of her cell. (That damn bastard rigged their cells so that they couldn't even lean against the bars.)

"I assume it means that Wolff has taken the civilians' children hostage to coerce them into doing what they want," Spock replied. "However, I do not see them here with us, so I am uncertain of my hypothesis."

Scotty shrugged. "It makes sense."

"Jim's not going to like that," muttered McCoy.

"What do you mean?" asked Sulu.

"You've seen Jim on missions that involve kids. In his mind, and rightfully so, hurting a kid is one of the worst offenses that anyone is capable of. Especially after all the shit Jim went through on Tarsus."

"Do you think Wolff knows about Tarsus?" questioned Uhura. "Is that why he took the kids?"

"Maybe, maybe not." McCoy crossed his arms, thinking. "From a parent's standpoint, we'd do anything for our kids. And I mean _anything_ to ensure their safety, including starting a revolt because some crazy bastard told them to. But based on Wolff's behavior, I want to say that he enjoys the added benefit of riling Jim up more."

"What does he even 'ave against Jim anyway?" Scotty wondered. "His hatred an' anger seems a bit much, don't you think?"

"He said that he lost everything to Jim," Spock said slowly. "Perhaps he is speaking of his ambitions. Jim's promotion to Captain did mean that many others who were next in line were passed over. Wolff may be one of those."

"That's true," Uhura agreed, "But Scotty's right. It seems a bit much. Sure, there's anger to that, but his desire to become Captain shouldn't raise so much anger."

"Maybe he's just a psychopath," Sulu added. "Do we really need to read that much into him? He's a bastard who's trying to kill us and Kirk."

"He's not even just trying to kill us," McCoy replied. "He's trying to destroy everything that we've ever built. Bring down our name, bring down the _Enterprise_ and her Captain – the flagship and hero of the Federation – it could damage Starfleet heavily."

Uhura frowned. "But he already had Kirk locked up. Why did he have to bring us to Zenobia?"

There was a moment of silence and then McCoy groaned.

"What is it, Leonard?"

"It was never about pinning Dreyes' death on Jim. It wasn't even about getting Jim convicted for Dreyes death. It was about what Jim was going to do after being captured. There was never enough evidence to give a guilty sentence to Jim – sooner or later, he would have been expunged of all crimes. But if he ran? Nothing says guilt faster than that. Jim's not an idiot. He would've realized what was going to happen the moment Dreyes turned up dead, which is why he got Pike and Chekov to help him escape and get to us. We're not collateral damage or a way to get back at Jim for whatever it is that Wolff thinks he did."

Spock caught on quickly to McCoy's train of thought, and he too, felt like groaning. "We're bait."

McCoy nodded. "And you can bet your ass that Jim's on his way here now."

"But wait," Sulu protested, "Jim was always planning to escape. Pike said that he had to get out or he'd be killed in prison."

"Yeah, but he was going to hide out until his innocence was proven. Now, he's on his way here, which means that he's going to pick a fight with Wolff to rescue us. In Starfleet's eyes, it'll be like Jim is declaring war on the Federation. And for a man already thought to be guilty for killing an Admiral to go up against a Starfleet officer who has a sparkling clean record, he's not going to be tried for murder anymore. He's going to be tried for treason."

"And we all know how that ends," Uhura said. "There won't even be a trial. They'll erase Kirk from history."

"Which is what I suspect Wolff is going for," Spock confirmed.

"Then there's only one thing tha' we can do now," Scotty spoke up.

Uhura turned to her left to glance curiously at the Engineer. "What's that, Scotty?"

"We gotta escape and take down Wolff before Jim can."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're not exactly Jim here. It's almost impossible without his brand of crazy."

"No, it's 'almost' impossible. We're all geniuses of our own merit."

"And Kirk's been teaching us his skills," Sulu popped in. "We may not be Kirk, but if we put our heads together, I'm sure we can come up with something."

"Regardless if we are capable of replicating Jim's skills or not, we must escape," Spock said determinedly. "For Jim."

It was now a race to see who can save the other faster, and they could only hope that they were the ones to win. Otherwise, Jim was done for, and there would be nothing that they could do.

If they didn't escape before Jim rescued them, Jim Kirk's fate would be sealed, and that would be the end to all of them.

And then it truly would be checkmate. For everyone.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>I realize that this a fairly short chapter and I'm really sorry for the slow update, but I had to work and study and then school started up all over again. I've been uber stressed out - it's only week three and I've already had three quizzes, two more quizzes this week, and two exams next week. So updates to this story and <em>Ingenious Idiot<em> are going to be much slower now (yeah...I know I was slow to begin with), but I promise! I won't abandon either story. I will work on them. Just when I have the time. I hope you guys will all be understanding and I hope that you continue to support and read my stories!

Thanks for reading and please review!

Cheers,

Yuna


	7. Chapter 7: The First Strike

**Chapter 7**

**The First Strike**

Stretching and yawning, Chekov wandered back into the cockpit to see Jim fiddling with the controls with wires and sparks flying everywhere. He froze, taking in the sight. There was a hardened expression on Jim's face – something that stayed constant since he was freed – and beads of sweat dripping down his neck. Dark circles were heavily pronounced under his eyes, making him look almost like a zombie. He hadn't changed since he escaped Starfleet's prison, remaining in his black under-shirt and pants.

"Keptin, hawe you slept yet?" asked Chekov, moving forward to sit down on the chair next to Jim's.

"Nope. I've been trying to reconfigure our ship to go a little faster. I can't get her to go warp speed, but my changes should help shorten down the time by a day and eight hours."

"You should really get some sleep. You hawe been avake far too long."

"I'll sleep when this is over."

"Keptin…" Chekov said in deprecating tone. It sounded so quite like what Bones would sound like when he was concerned about Jim's health that it would make Jim stop everything that he was doing.

That thought alone made Jim's chest feel ever so tight and caused the fear and panic that he had been trying so very hard to suppress rear its ugly head again.

Jim's movements paused for a split second before he continued working, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Chekov and viciously shoving his rising emotions down with immense difficulty.

Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Tarsus all over again, but this time, instead of his kids lying lifeless around him, it was Bones, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, and Scotty. And every time, their eyes would stare at him with such accusation, demanding and pleading why he didn't save them in time.

There was something bleeding out from his subconscious. He couldn't quite put a name to what it was that was lurking in the shadows, at least not yet, but it was something dark and twisted that he was too afraid to even acknowledge. But he could feel it, seeping at the edges, turning in the depths of his mind and heart, just waiting for the right moment to pounce and consume him.

But he couldn't exactly show panic and fear in front of Chekov. He was the man with the plan – how would it look if he fell apart before one of the few people he was supposed to protect and keep safe?

So he answered as simply and honestly as he could. "I can't sleep."

Bless his heart, Chekov didn't even ask 'why'. He didn't need to. Instead, he asked quietly, "Vhat can I do to help?"

Jim let the materials in his hands drop as he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. He got up from where he was crouched on the floor and plopped down on his chair. Sighing tiredly, he rubbed his face hard and pulled himself together before turning to Chekov and giving him a small smile. "You're already helping, Chekov, don't worry."

He was always afraid of becoming a monster – having someone as innocent and caring as Chekov beside him could remind him of his humanity; it was grounding and comforting. It also reminded Jim of what he had – what he would _never_ let himself lose. Not again. Not while it was within his power to keep everything that had become so irreplaceable to him safe.

Jim clapped Chekov on the shoulder before leaning back on his chair, letting himself relax and the tension bleed out from his body. "So, tell me about Zenobia."

Chekov looked confused. "Vhat?"

"Give me a run-down on the planet like you guys always do. What should I know, what should I avoid, the history, etc. Tell me what I need to know to prepare for this whole thing. Knowing you, you probably did all that research when you found out that the _Enterprise _was going to Zenobia."

Understanding shined in Chekov's eyes. It was just like Jim to be able to predict Chekov's moves, and though that could potentially be a bit unnerving to some, to Chekov, it meant that Jim thought highly of Chekov. Jim was praising, in his own way, how thorough Chekov could be.

He dutifully started listing out all that he had learned. "Zenobia is a Starfleet colony vith a feudal-like government. Though zhey hawe technological advancements, ze people zhere prefer ze comfort of farming for zheir own, vhich is vhy zhere hawe reverted to a medieval-like culture. Ze government is composed of a council vith a head figure by ze name of Zachariah Greenaway."

Jim nodded. "Wolff's uncle."

"Correct. Greenaway has been in charge for seweral years now."

"But?" prompted Jim.

"But he has been known to be quite cruel. It took some heawy digging, but I found some complaints regarding Greenaway. He raises taxes, takes, and bullies his citizens, vhich is vhy Starfleet thought zhat he might turn into another Kodos or zhat zhere would be an uprising, especially because zhere hawe been rumors zhat ze crops are dying for some unknown reason."

"So Dreyes lied to me," sighed Jim, leaning back in his chair. "Damn it."

Chekov was back to being confused. "Keptin?"

"Well, after all that happened, I wondered if I was told the whole story. Dreyes told me that he was sending the _Enterprise_ to Zenobia for safekeeping. I agreed to it because I thought it would keep them safe. But Dreyes wouldn't do something like that out of favor to me. He always had some sort ulterior motive. At some point, I figured that he sent the _Enterprise_ to Zenobia to handle that possible uprising while telling me something else."

"If you knew zhat, zhen vhy did you agree to send zhem to Zenobia?"

"Because, some part of me hoped that I was being told the truth. I _wanted_ it to be truth. I wanted you all safe when shit hit the fan like I knew it would. So I agreed to Dreyes' proposal, even though I suspected the lie simply because I didn't have enough evidence to counter it. I didn't even figure it all out until Wolff visited me during my 'interrogation'."

"But you came to me before you vere captured. If you had still believed that Dreyes vas going to help you, vhy did you pull me away from the _Enterprise_?"

Jim smiled tiredly at him. "Because I needed _you_ to keep _me_ safe. I told you, I was a sitting duck in the cell. If I had stayed any longer, I was probably going to be executed before any sort of defense could be compiled, and I needed to give myself the time to prove my innocence. This whole Zenobia and Wolff thing threw a wrench in my original plan though."

His body subconsciously tensed at that simple thought, but he forced himself to relax. It wouldn't help anyone if he was too wound up. "What else about Zenobia do I need to know?"

"Vhat do you vant to know?"

"Anything that I can use to my advantage. Terrain, beliefs…anything that I could potentially use."

"Vell, the environment is mostly a boreal biome vith a small mountain range towards ze outskirts of ze main city. As I said before, zheir culture is wery similar to zhat of a medieval culture. Clothing, lifestyle, and mannerisms are almost as if zhey vere taken from a history book. However, ze natives of ze land hawe heavily influenced zheir religion. Zhey believe in a spirit of ze land vho protects harvest and is known for her love of children."

"So, like Demeter?"

"Vho?"

"The Greek goddess of harvest who was thought to have created the seasons." Jim looked at the blank look on Chekov's face and felt an obligation to tell Chekov the Greek myth of Demeter.

"Demeter had a child, named Persephone, who she loved dearly. One day, Persephone was taken from her and she desperately searched the world for her. She spent all her energy and time just looking for her beloved daughter that she didn't hear the prayers for harvest and the land began dying. As the land died, the people suffered and pleaded to the gods for relief. It was then when it was discovered that Hades, the god of the underworld, had kidnapped Persephone and made her his Queen. Zeus ordered Hades to return Persephone to her mother in order to save the humans, but Persephone had eaten six pomegranate seeds while she was with Hades."

"The rule was, by eating the food of the underworld, she would be trapped there for all eternity, but Demeter refused to let her daughter go. She loved her far too much, so she threatened the gods and world that she would let the earth die if Persephone was not returned to her. Zeus made a deal with Hades, who allowed Persephone to return to her mother under the condition that she would spend one month of the year per pomegranate seed with him. So, for six months, Persephone was allowed to stay with her mother and together, their happiness brought about spring and summer, but for the other six months, Demeter was alone and wandered the land, grief-stricken and missing her daughter. According to the myth, her loneliness and time away from Persephone was how winter came about."

There was a moment of silence as Chekov processed the story. "Zhat's so sad."

"It's just a story, Chekov," Jim waved away those emotions with a nonchalant hand. "I wouldn't be too heartbroken over it."

"And vhy do you know zis tale?"

"I'm a genius, remember? And I read a lot when I was a kid. Greek myths were some of my favorite things to read. But back to your spiel…is there a name for this spirit?"

"Zhey simply call her ze 'Goddess', but it's just zheir belief. Zhere are stories that she vatches ower the children and protects zhem as vell as those vho she deems to be vorthvhile, but zhere is no physical proof zhat she exists."

"Doesn't mean it's not true."

"I didn't know you vere a religious man, Keptin."

"I'm not, but it doesn't mean I can't respect other people's cultures." Jim glanced out the windshield, watching the stars pass by fast. Mentally, he was still counting down the time before they reached Zenobia. "Anything else, Chekov?"

"Not zhat I can zhink of."

"Great." Jim pushed back from the dashboard and sprang to his feet, unable to sit still anymore. "Can you see what you can do with this?" he asked, pointing at the open wires that he had pulled out. "Let's try to speed up our timeframe."

One day, seven hours, and forty-two minutes.

The clock was ticking downwards.

Thirty-one hours and forty-one minutes until Jim and Chekov would even reach Zenobia, but that wasn't the problem. Getting to Zenobia wasn't an issue – with Jim and Chekov's expertise in engineering and physics, they could reach anywhere in the universe, even in their tiny exploratory shuttle. It was the landing that was the problem, because Jim highly doubted that Wolff would make things easy for him.

The shuttle had no weapons, no capacity for warp speed, and barely any shields. Jim had nothing and Wolff had something equivalent to a nuclear missile plant on his fingertips.

No matter how Jim calculated it, the odds of them even making it _onto_ the planet was almost zero to none. But there were no such things as "no-win scenarios".

There wasn't.

There couldn't be.

Because there was no way that Jim could live in a world without his family, but that made him reckless.

And a reckless Jim Kirk meant a body count.

But who was going to be on the list of casualties, not even Jim knew.

Jim was either going to win or lose.

There was never going to be any other way.

That was always how it began for Jim. He could only hope that, for once, it would not end the same way as it always did for him – in complete and utter despair that would crush the remnants of his soul once and for all.

* * *

><p>In all honesty, Wolff was a little bit surprised how smoothly everything went. He had never expected the famous James T. Kirk to fall into his trap so easily, but then and again, Kirk did care ever so deeply for his crew. It made it so very simple for Wolff to manipulate and use to his advantage. Sentiment was a weakness, and it was Kirk's ultimate downfall.<p>

Wolff smirked as he thought of how far he had come. He had grown up with an alcoholic mother who beat him as a way for her to escape her own pain from the failure of her marriage and her inability to keep her husband from sleeping around. In her haze of her depression and manic episodes, she never saw how brilliant her child was or how quickly he had grown up. She couldn't see how ambitious he was or how he became a bully throughout the entirety of his schooling.

With the feeling of being powerless at the hands of his parents, the young Royce had become power-hungry outside of home. He sought out power and authority, and by any means necessary. His hands were so dirty from all he had done to reach his goal of becoming the Captain of Starfleet's flagship that no amount of water or scrubbing could clean them.

And he was proud of it.

He grew up in a shithole, born in filth. It was natural for him to be coated in grime. In fact, he thrived in it.

Using his own struggles as fuel, Wolff had pushed himself forward, struggling and crawling out of the hellhole that was his childhood.

With his own two feet, Wolff walked out of that life without a single look back.

Through all that, he had learned the most important lesson of his life: if he wanted to get ahead and get what he wanted, he had to do what needed to be done, no matter the cost.

When he met Kirk for the first time in his life, it was when he had just entered the Academy. He had heard whispers of George Kirk's infamous son joining the ranks of his class, but he hadn't met Kirk quite yet. At that time, Kirk was inconsequential - insignificant - in his ultimate need for power and authority.

But then he actually met James T. Kirk, and he was swept away. Instantly, he felt a connection with Kirk - one that only people who had had a less than stellar childhood like they did could understand. Like him, Kirk had clawed his way to the Academy, leaving his past behind him as he yearned and reached for the stars.

He had felt drawn to Kirk for that very reason and even came to idolize him. After all, Kirk was brilliant - far more intelligent than Wolff could ever hope to be. He was dashing and charming. He was well-liked by everyone that met him simply because he had those bright blue eyes and a friendliness that no one could resist, and yet, in the same breath, there was a barrier that no one could even begin to penetrate. It almost felt like he was untouchable, as if he was far too distant for anyone to reach him.

It was exactly what Wolff wanted - to be like Kirk who was so strong, so powerful and completely invulnerable and impalpable.

And the damn man spent all of his time pretending to be an idiot. Instead of studying, he played around, got drunk, and slept with half the female population, human or not. It was like a slap in the face - as if Kirk was mocking everything that Wolff believed in and patronizing everything that he wanted to be.

Out of his admiration, a deep-seeded hatred was born. But he didn't despise Kirk out of jealousy. Sure, it was true that he hated Kirk because he was everything and had everything Wolff wanted, but Wolff wasn't stupid enough to let envy rule him. What he truly loathed about Kirk was that he had everything, and Kirk threw it all away like it was nothing, choosing to bury his past and pretending that he was normal, like the rest of the imbeciles at the Academy. He could have been great, like his hero of a father, but he continued to waste away his life with alcohol and women, or at least that was what Wolff and the rest of the world saw.

It didn't matter though, because nothing was going to get in his way to become Captain. He worked hard and spent every moment of his life around people pretending to be this genuine, unassuming man who was always trying to be helpful. Favors came his way and he moved up quickly while Kirk abrasively antagonized the professors and challenged everyone around him. After he passed the Kobayashi Maru with flying colors, (of course he did. He didn't quite care what happened to the lives of his crew as long as he survived and continued onwards), he was told that, once he graduated and worked for a few years, he would take over the Captaincy of the _Enterprise_ when Pike retired, making him the youngest Captain of a flagship ever in Starfleet's history. And damn, did that sound good. It also helped boost his ego to know that Kirk was about to attempt the Kobayashi Maru for the third time.

But then the Nero incident happened and Kirk apparently somehow saved the planet by blatantly disregarding all the rules and regulations. Like a whirlwind, he came and conquered, leaving those in his wake disoriented and confused. And all of a sudden, all his professors were praising Kirk's genius. It came as a shock to Wolff to learn that not only was Kirk on top of their class in all of the most advanced courses, but his test scores had to be omitted in order to maintain a normal bell curve. He was so exceptionally gifted academically that, despite being so challenging and outspoken, professors actually listened to him and enjoyed debating with him.

His reasoning against the Kobayashi Maru was so beautiful that even Wolff had to admit that he had a point: even in the face of certain death, a Captain couldn't just accept the fear of death and control oneself and one's crew as they met their fate - a Captain had to use that fear and try everything possible to emerge victorious. And if that wasn't possible, then a Captain had to go down fighting. Kirk had made it clear in his hearing that he didn't believe in no-win scenarios, and that was made evident with his actions against Nero. Suddenly, the reason that Kirk took, and failed, the Kobayashi Maru three times made sense.

In the aftermath of all that happened, Kirk's graduation was fast-tracked and he was given command of the newly repaired and gorgeous _Enterprise_ - something that had been promised to Wolff. And worse, Kirk was promoted to Captaincy at least five to ten years earlier than Wolff would have ever been.

At first, all Wolff could see was a sheen of green, but it faded after Kirk went off on his first mission. He had figured that Kirk's success with Nero was a fluke and he was sure that Kirk was going to screw up badly. As it turned out, Kirk did tremendously well and slipped into his role so easily like it was his natural skin. He had been born to be Captain of the _Enterprise_, and it would take far more than death to remove Kirk from the equation.

He was tired of always being in Kirk's shadow, never being able to even come close to touching any sunlight. Wolff didn't _just_ want to take Kirk's place on the _Enterprise_. He wanted to _erase_ Kirk from history and take his place. And to do that, he would have to make Kirk fall from grace first.

He had gathered information from all over the world, piecing together the beginnings of a plot to take Kirk down. First, he solidified his place besides Dreyes to get his hands on anything regarding Kirk. Dreyes was powerful and had his fingers dipped into everything in the Federation. Even the other Admirals were held under his iron grip, which made him the perfect target for Wolff. Dreyes had the authority _and _the means to gather any information that Wolff was looking for. He found out about Kirk's past and spent time watching and learning about Kirk's habits and skills. As he discovered more and more, he also found others who did not agree with Starfleet's decision with Kirk's Captaincy. He quickly integrated himself into their group, gaining more power as he climbed the ranks.

However, unlike those that Wolff surrounded himself with, he did not fear Kirk quite as much as they did. They saw Jim as a threat to the peace that the Federation held. They could see how he moved people, changed worlds and fates with a single smile. And it _terrified_ them. It was human nature to lash out at what they feared – to put down the threat before it had a chance to hurt them.

What they didn't realize was that, hidden under their noses, was a far more dangerous threat – one that had no qualms of killing hundreds of lives and using children as leverage. Unlike James T. Kirk, a man who strove to be good and lived his life under a strict set of rules, Wolff was the furthest thing from being a good man, and that was just how Wolff liked it.

Now, Wolff was so close to victory that he could almost taste it. Plotting around Kirk had been slow-going. The man was smart and covered his tracks well. His ingenuity around computers and electronics in general was so astounding that it took Wolff and his conspirators three full years to find it all. In fact, they never would have known where to look if they hadn't managed to track down his stepfather, drowning in enough alcohol to drown a shark. They were the ones who picked him up and threw him into prison to get sober and learn a few new skills in order to take Kirk hostage.

They hadn't been expecting much from Frank; they were simply using Frank to test Jim – to see how sentimental Kirk was. If he could spare Frank's life – a man who had abused Kirk and single-handedly destroyed his childhood – then what would Kirk do to save the people he truly cared about?

See, Wolff had Kirk pegged down. Because of his turbulent past, Kirk didn't trust anyone. He didn't allow himself to care about anyone. Like Wolff, he had come to the conclusion that emotions, particularly those of attachment, were not an advantage: it was an Achilles' heel. It was a way to break him apart and bear open his soul for anyone to pick at, like a crow scavenging for food. But Kirk was weak and he let his heart falter. He grew attached to Dr. McCoy at first, and then Spock and the rest of the Command crew.

It made Kirk an _easy_ target. For the first time in the three or so years that this plot was underfoot, Kirk was vulnerable. And that was when Wolff struck. He had convinced Dreyes to make his move on Jim – something that he had wanted to do for ages because of Jim's amazing skills – and personally killed the Admiral at precisely the right moment to frame Kirk. Wolff had never expected Kirk to be fully convicted as a murderer – he had too many people supporting him and honestly, Wolff couldn't scrounge up enough evidence to bring Jim down completely. No, he was counting on Kirk's escape, and even better, Kirk to chase after him for his crew. Because then, that made Kirk a fugitive and made him susceptible for Wolff's _true_ plans.

A knock on the door interrupted Wolff's thoughts. He had been sitting at his desk with his feet resting on top of it, thinking through all the various things that Jim could possibly do in the five days that he had made the Zenobian dungeons home for almost all the people that Kirk loved.

"Come in," he called out, swiveling around to sit up straight.

One of his many men popped his head into the room. "Sir, we've picked up a signal. We think it's Kirk."

A smile slowly made its way onto Wolff's face. "Good."

"What should we do, sir?"

"Well, I'd be quite rude if I didn't welcome him graciously to Zenobia, wouldn't I? How long until his arrival?"

"We approximate two hours."

Wolff stood. "In that case, I do believe that I have to make a visit to our dear friends down below. Tell my uncle to ready our welcome present for Kirk. I'll be there soon."

"Understood, sir. I'll take my leave now," he said before ducking out.

Once he was gone, Wolff turned to look out the window, staring out the tower at the bright, blue skies, grinning manically. "And so it begins, Kirk. And so it begins."

He was going to be the one to make the first strike.

* * *

><p>There was a flurry of motion once Jim and Chekov's shuttle made its way into Zenobia's upper atmosphere. Fingers flew across the console in order to push in the right sequence to shield the craft so it wouldn't burn as it descended. The only problem with that was that, between the two of them and the marginally less advanced shuttle (compared to the <em>Enterprise<em> at least), they could only protect their ship from turning into a flaming hot mess, which meant that they could easily be detected the moment they entered the lower atmosphere.

Jim could no longer rely on the element of surprise, not that that was in his original plans anyway.

Within moments of stabilizing their ship, its communicator began to ring.

"Keptin, I believe it is Volff calling," Chekov said, reading the flashing words on the screen as he turned to look at what Jim was doing.

"Yeah, I know," Jim breathed. He was shoving the last of the few supplies that they had into a backpack and zipping it up tightly before he moved to sit at the pilot's seat. "Back up, Chekov. Stay out of the shot."

Puzzled, Chekov obeyed, but asked anyway. "Vhy?"

"Because they don't know you're with me, and you never reveal your trump card until the end." Jim made a shooing motion. "Stay in the corner and don't make a sound, okay?"

Chekov nodded quickly and pressed himself against the side – completely invisible to any caller.

Once Chekov was situated, Jim accepted the transmission.

Wolff's smug face popped up onto the screen, and immediately, Jim felt all his heckles rise. His body tensed and he fought to shove down the fury that threatened to consume him. Because, behind Wolff, was three of his family members – strung up like animals that were ready to be tanned.

The shot wasn't very encompassing. Jim could only make out the wide room with walls of grey stone. There were no decorations, no other indications of where that room might be, but its use was obviously for torture. Hooks hung on the ceilings in order to hold up the chains that were currently stringing Sulu, Spock, and McCoy up. Their arms and wrists were bundled in iron high above their heads and body; their feet dangled a good two or three inches above the ground.

Though there was a slight strain to their expressions, Jim did not see too much pain in their faces, and for that, Jim felt a small touch of relief fill him. He would even be amused by the utterly bored looks on Spock, Bones, and Sulu's expressions if the situation wasn't so one-sided.

"_Kirk, I feel honored that you broke out of prison just to visit little old me," _Wolff said. Delight was clear in his voice. _"I even brought out your people in order to greet you properly."_

"Wolff," Jim growled, his eyes narrowing.

"_I do hope that prison wasn't too unpleasant for you."_

"You of all people should know that those things could never hold me."

_"They weren't meant to - I just threw you in there to slow you down."_

Jim's expressions never changed, and Wolff took notice of that.

_"You're not surprised."_

"Does that shock you? You've read all my files. You've followed every mission, every rumor. Surely, you aren't surprised by my ability to read into the minds of others. I think I'd be pretty disappointed in you if you thought otherwise."

A broad grin spread across Wolff's face. _"Oh, don't worry. I was counting on it."_

"Yeah, I figured as much."

_"And yet you still came. Sentiment is not an advantage, Kirk. Your attachment to your crew made you an easy target."_

"I've told you before, Wolff. Don't underestimate me."

_"And I've told you, I would never. Unlike the rest of the world, I know what you are truly capable of."_

Jim bared his teeth. "You know _nothing_ of what I'm capable of, Wolff."

Even Jim didn't know the extent of the entirety of his abilities - he had never completely lost his control over himself. He was too afraid of letting out the monster he had hidden so deep inside him.

_"Well, let's see if you have time to save your precious friends."_

The way Wolff said it put Jim on edge and tense for anything.

_"You didn't really think that I would make it so easy for you, did you? You alone can stand-in for a small elite army. I would never risk you reaching me so obviously."_

Wolff turned and shouted, _"Engage,"_ to somebody off screen. A wicked smirk was on his face when his attention was back on Kirk. _"You were never meant to reach the ground, Kirk."_

At the same time, the console started flashing red, indicating an incoming attack. By the shape and size, it was an archaic missile that had locked in on his location.

Jim's blue eyes widened as he realized that there was nothing he could do to prevent the imminent strike, especially within the one minute countdown. He thought he would have more time.

Wolff cackled on screen. _"Goodbye, Kirk. This is the end for you."_

Jim swiveled back around, snarling. "In your fucking dreams." And he slammed his hand down on the console, shutting off the transmission.

"Shit!" Jim swore under his breath, glancing briefly at the radar to see how long he had. There was twenty seconds left on the screen.

"Keptin?!" Chekov barked out.

Jim scrambled, hands moving faster than they have ever before.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Jim felt panic lick at him. There wasn't enough time!

Three.

Two.

One.

Jim closed his eyes.

This was it.

Zero.

* * *

><p>McCoy felt his heart leap when he first saw Jim alive and unharmed on screen. His best friend looked worn and yet, alert at the same time. His eyes were so bright and determined. He was the same old Jim who was in "mission-mode", albeit with more bruises than he usually started out with. For anyone who didn't know Jim so personally like McCoy, Spock, and Sulu, they wouldn't have been able to see the touch of fear in Jim's expressions as they did - fear for <em>them<em> as opposed to himself.

That worried them more than anything else.

Jim was going to be blind to everything and everyone if he was scared for them. That fear would transform into pinpoint focus on saving them and getting them to safety, no matter the cost. No matter if it cost Jim is own life.

And then McCoy, Spock, and Sulu watched Wolff's missile blow up the small, already slightly damaged shuttle on a different screen. They all flinched at the sound of the loud explosion.

Debris exploded everywhere and fire consumed the metal. Large chunks of the shuttle plummeted to the ground with the full force of gravity working against it. In seconds, there was nothing left that hadn't been destroyed by the missile.

Shock and numbness filled McCoy, Spock, and Sulu. Their ever loyal belief and faith in Jim whispered at them, telling them that he survived, but logic yelled at them, screaming that no human could have survived such a blast.

It seemed that Wolff had a similar train of thought. "Find his body and bring it to me," Wolff barked out. "And if you can't find it, assume he's alive and hunt him down and take him out."

He turned to eye the three hanging there. All managed to keep their expressions neutral, hiding their alarm for Jim in a crevice of their hearts where Wolff could not touch and use against them.

"Mr. Spock, what is the probability of Kirk surviving that attack?" Wolff asked, sauntering forward with arrogance dripping with every step.

Spock refused to speak, only to have one of Wolff's men whip him across the back. His body flinched at the suddenness, but he felt no pain. He was far to composed for that, and Wolff knew it.

"Answer me, Mr. Spock, or I will begin to torture your friends instead."

Jim would never forgive Spock if he let "Bones" and Sulu get hurt on his behalf, so he gave Wolff a hard glare. "0.12%," he said.

"So low. Do you believe he survived?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes."

Wolff grinned broadly. "I do too. It just wouldn't be fun if Kirk didn't stick around for a little bit more."

"You're a sick bastard, you know that?" McCoy gritted out. "What could you possibly gain from toying with Jim?"

"Satisfaction."

"What the hell did he ever do to you?" snapped Sulu.

At that, Wolff's expressions twisted and his true face bled through. "He existed, which in the eyes of Starfleet, erased mine."

"Your conspirators – they banded under you out of fear of Jim, but clearly, you have a different agenda than they," Spock said slowly, his mind connecting the dots. "You were using them in order to climb the ranks faster. Do they know? Do they know that you are a traitor to all sides?"

"No, and they will never know. Do you know why?"

Sulu rolled his eyes. "I have a feeling you're going to say that you're going to kill us so you won't have any witnesses to your confession. Please don't. I'm already bored enough as it is. You're going to kill me with your lame-ass clichés before you even get a chance to raise your gun or knife or what other clichéd weapon you're going to kill me with. At least with Kirk, it was always entertaining because he was just that damn unpredictable."

Then, an uncharacteristic glare of steel replaced any trace of amusement or boredom that Sulu had on his face. "And that unpredictableness is what's going to kill _you_, Wolff. But that's if Kirk can get his hands on you before I can."

"Get in line," growled McCoy, glaring at Wolff as if looks could kill. "I'm first."

"You are second, Doctor. Vulcans have a much faster reaction time than humans," Spock almost snarled.

Wolff just chuckled at them and waved away their threats. "If I'm not worried about Kirk, then I'm certainly not worried about his dogs that have been collared." He turned to his men. "Take them back to their cells." He paused and grinned at the three. "_After_ you whip them into submission. I can't have such insolence go unrewarded, can I?"

He walked off, smugness rolling off him. "Just don't kill them. I'll like to do that in front of Kirk when he manages to show his face."

"And if he doesn't?" Wolff's grunt asked. "That explosion looked pretty big to me. It ain't likely that he survived."

"Well then, I'll have my fun killing them slowly, now wouldn't I?" grinned Wolff.

Sulu couldn't resist one last taunt. "Hopefully, with something original, you bombastic, hackneyed jackass."

Wolff's face twisted in true anger and swung around. "Whip him hardest," he hissed, pointing at Sulu.

Sulu felt a rush of satisfaction at breaking through that goddamn fake mask Wolff had on.

It was totally worth the extra whippings.

* * *

><p>"You're an idiot," Uhura said loudly, her brown eyes watching the man lying on his stomach in the cell next to hers. With the extra electric shields, she couldn't even reach over to brush the hair out of his eyes, no matter how much she wanted to.<p>

Sulu gave a huff, wincing as the movement jarred the open wounds on his back. The puff of air scattered some of the straw that lay beneath him. "Worth it," he gritted out.

"You're bleeding all over the ground," Uhura reminded him in an exasperated tone that she usually reserved for Kirk.

"So are Spock and McCoy!"

"Yes, but not as much as you." Uhura glanced over towards Scotty. "How's it looking for them?"

Scotty just nodded at her while keeping an eye on the two. Spock was sitting upright, halfway into a healing trance. His eyes were closed and he was clearly focusing on separating the pain from his consciousness and healing whatever he could before they were disturbed. McCoy, on the other hand, was also lying on his stomach, but there was no trace of pain on his face, save for the tiny strain by his eyes. He was conscious though, and he was obviously thinking hard about something. Out of the three of them, McCoy had been whipped least, but he was handling it far better than any of them would have imagined. Either he had taken a page out of Jim's book or he had a higher pain tolerance than any of them had thought.

"Betta than that one over there," Scotty replied, tilting his head towards the pilot.

"You just _had _to goad Wolf, didn't you?" sighed Uhura, turning her attention back on Sulu.

"Why are you picking on me?" protested Sulu. "Spock and McCoy aren't that much better than me!"

"Spock is a Vulcan and can go under a healing trance and Leonard was smart enough to keep his mouth shut when the prospect of torture is looming over his head."

"Someone had to say something," Sulu grumbled, "Couldn't exactly let him win, could I? Kirk would never have given him an inch, so why should I?"

Uhura wanted so much to seethe with frustration, but Sulu did have a point. There was no reason to give Wolff anything – not even the simple satisfaction that he had probably won the first and second round of this war against Kirk.

She sighed instead. "How are you doing?"

Sulu took a moment to answer. "I'll live."

"Leonard?" she called out.

"I'm fine," McCoy said.

"Are you really? Or are you just abiding to rule number twelve?"

Kirk's voice filtered through McCoy's mind as he remembered the first time he had ever heard that rule. It was when McCoy had dragged Jim out of another bar fight. The man had literally been pummeled to pieces, but he smirked and snarked like he was the king of the world – as if he hadn't been bleeding all over McCoy's uniform. Even now, McCoy could hear Jim's response to his "what the hell were you thinking? Just stay down the next time, ya idiot!" Jim had chuckled and gasped out, _"Rule number twelve: never show weakness, _especially_ if you've been beaten to the ground."_

The crew had come to know this rule intimately through their various missions that had gone haywire. No matter how injured or wounded Jim was, he would always stand up with that famous cocky smirk on his face and proceed to wipe the floor with his genius. Even if he was an inch away from death (which has happened one too many times before), there would always be that smile on his face that hid away any weaknesses that his body had.

They didn't truly understand why Jim abided by that rule particularly. They had attributed it to a habit that Jim picked up over his horrific childhood and teenage years, but now? They fully understood where Jim was coming from.

It wasn't pride or a scar from the past: it was simply a way to push himself and keep going – to not let go and to hang on to whatever strength was left.

If his will broke, then all would but lost, but if he never showed weakness, then the enemy wouldn't know where to hit for it to hurt. He could even pretend that he was fine and push on. It was a form of strength that always kept Jim and those around him going, and it was something that the rest of them had unconsciously picked up.

McCoy didn't know when they started to follow Jim's rules, but now seemed to be the perfect time to utilize them. "A little bit of both," he responded truthfully.

His back was burning like no other and his muscles ached every time he breathed, and he was sure that Sulu was worse off than him, but if Sulu wasn't complaining, then he wouldn't either. Besides, there were more important things to attend to than his discomfort.

"We need a plan," he said. "Jim survived that blast, which means he's coming for us. We have to get out before he gets to us."

"I thought we established that already," Sulu retorted. "Just because we're bleeding all over the floor doesn't mean that that plan changes."

"We have to speed up the time table. I have no doubt that Jim escaped, but there's no way that he did so unscathed. He's going to be hurt somewhere or another. We can't have him running around in the middle of foreign and hostile territory like that."

"What was Spock's probability on Kirk surviving?" Uhura asked gently.

"0.12%," Sulu replied.

She let out a low breath. "That's the lowest Spock has ever predicted. And that's less than what he said for Nero."

"0.43% is not that far off. Besides, this is Kirk we're talking about."

"Aye, that laddie saw this comin', no doubt about it," Scotty said. "He'll have planned for it."

Uhura was quiet when she spoke again. "What if he didn't have enough time? From what you said, it didn't seem like he did."

"Don't think like tha," Scotty scolded.

"But what if?!" she cried out. She looked down at her hands with tears that threatened to fall. "Kirk's not invincible, no matter how much we think he is. What are we going to do if something happens to him?"

Sulu struggled to his elbows, ignoring how his body desperately protested against it and propping himself up so that he could give Uhura an even and determined stare. "On the very, _very_ small chance that Kirk got himself blown up by someone as ridiculous as Wolff, then we do the only thing left for us."

"And what's that?"

"We make Wolff and everyone else rue the day they first heard of James T. Kirk. And we take them down in a halo of flames, because that's what Kirk would like. The man likes explosions, so who are we to deny him that?"

"And after?"

Sulu shrugged. "Honestly, I haven't thought that far, but knowing him, he'll probably want us to move on. We should live our lives until we're old and wrinkled like prunes, because that's what Kirk will want for us. If that idiot sacrifices his life for us, the only thing we can do to honor him is to live out our days happy and content."

McCoy snorted. "Yeah, like that'll ever happen if that idiot isn't here. He doesn't even realize what he represents in our lives. Selfish bastard who doesn't understand his self-worth."

"Oh, I totally agree," Sulu said readily. "I never said that that's what we _will_ do. Just that that's what we _should _do, but Kirk's family, and I refuse to even think that far. Anyhow, he's one crazy son of a bitch, so I have total faith that he's still alive and kicking. So until he makes his way to us or we make our way to him, we're going to wreak so much havoc that Wolff regrets even messing with us in the first place. Agreed?"

Uhura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You're still bleeding all over the floor, Sulu."

"Ye of little faith. Aren't we glass half-full people?"

"You certainly are," she shot back fondly. Kirk was rubbing off on all of them. That stubbornness was so Kirk-ish that it made her smile and bring back her optimism. "So, what's the plan?"

It was then when Spock opened his eyes, pulling out of his trance.

"Spock?" Uhura called out, concern lacing her words.

"You got a plan, hobgoblin?" McCoy asked gruffly.

"I do not."

They all groaned out in frustration.

"However," Spock continued, "I do have an idea."

"Isn't that the same thing, you green-blooded bat? Couldn't you just say that you have a plan in the first place?"

"But I do not have a plan. Our situation is more complex than what my logic and reasoning can overcome."

As realization dawned on McCoy, he let his head hit the ground in exasperation. "Please don't tell me what I think you're going to say."

"As I do not know what you are thinking, I cannot assure you of that."

"Just spit it out, Spock!" Uhura exclaimed.

"Considering how dire our circumstances have become, I propose that we do something drastic."

Light lit up in all their eyes as they figured out what Spock was hinting at before he even said it.

"We're going to pull off a 'Kirk', aren't we?" grinned Sulu.

Spock nodded, despite his silent objections to how Sulu worded things.

Scotty chuckled, excitement making his voice louder. "Laddies and bonnie, let's make Jim proud."

And if Jim was around, he would be, but as it was, they were on their own. At least for now.

Or so they hoped, because they didn't think they would know what to do if it was permanent.

All they knew was that Wolff had better run and run as far as he could.

This was hardly the end of any of them, least of all, Kirk, but in case it was, then this was just the beginning.

This was the beginning of the nightmare that Wolff would never wake from.

They would make sure of it.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>Hi people! Sorry for the late update. School was particularly crippling this semester and next semester is going to be even worse. Again, these updates are going to be slow, but I promise, I am working on them. I write whenever I get the chance. And I am also working on the next chapter for <em>Ingenious Idiot<em>, promise. But again, the updates are going to be slow for both sides, sorry. But I hope you all stick with me! Thank you all for supporting me and for all the kind reviews!

As always, please read and review!

Cheers,

Yuna


	8. Chapter 8: Looking Into a Mirror

**Chapter 8**

**Looking Into a Mirror**

As Wolff and Jim's crew figured, Jim wasn't dead, though he sincerely wished he was the moment he woke up. He had come to slowly, his mind swam through molasses to reach consciousness, despite the undercurrent of urgency (he couldn't figure out why quite yet), trying so desperately to force him awake.

He couldn't decide what hurt more – his head or his ribs. But then and again, his legs felt so utterly bruised that he wasn't sure if he could even move them.

He shifted, groaning as the small movement sent sparks of pain throughout his battered body. His arm smacked against something, and he hissed in pain as his eyes snapped open. Darkness greeted him like an old friend and for a second he really thought he was dead and that Wolff's explosion had finally made him kick the bucket, but he was in far too much pain to really believe that.

The simple recollection of Wolff made Jim's mind snap back into order. Immediately, his sharpened senses slammed everything into gear and shoved his pain into the back corner of his head. In a swift movement, Jim turned a bit to kick harshly at the wall above him, hoping to hell that he was kicking the right one.

For once, luck was on his side and the wall gave out under Jim's powerful leg. It burst open, enveloping him with agonizing rays of sunlight, making him flinch. His eyes adjusted fast and he reflexively glanced down at his arms that were hugging Chekov so protectively against his chest.

He let out a sigh of relief to see his friend breathing evenly against him, and slowly released his tight grasp on Chekov, wincing as he did. His arms were so stiff and heavy, like they were made of stone.

Achingly, he withdrew his tangled limbs from Chekov's and started to climb out of the storage bin that he had thrown himself and Chekov into at the last second.

_The instant the countdown showed up on the screen, Jim knew he wasn't going to have enough time to parachute himself and Chekov out of the shuttle without getting hit by the debris or aftermath of the missile as he had originally planned. Now, he had to scramble for a new one. And he was coming up blank._

_Panic had filled his throat as he slammed against the console, ending communications with Wolff, but only because he wasn't alone. With more fear than Jim wanted to let show, his blue eyes connected with Chekov's, and he just knew that he had to keep Chekov safe. He brought Chekov into this, and he would be damned if he let anything happen to his little brother._

_His eyes roamed over the shuttle and landed on the long, rectangular safety containers near the back end. He recognized the material and realized that their chances of survival had just shot up at least thirty percent (which still wasn't much, considering they were only at forty-ish percent right then, but updated seventy-three percent was more than what Jim had in the beginning)._

_Grabbing Chekov with an iron grip, Jim dragged them and his backpack towards the containers and pressed the button to release the one on the right. Once open, Jim shoved his pack to the very right of the container and practically man-handled Chekov into the bin._

"_Lie down," Jim hissed. _

_Chekov scampered to obey, missing Jim glancing back at the countdown._

_Ten seconds left._

_Shit. Panic licked at him. There wasn't going to be enough time!_

_As fast as he could, he stepped into the container, reaching up to slam the lid down upon them. He heard the mechanism of the contraption lock and quickly rearranged himself to wrap around Chekov, using his body to shield the younger man as much as he could._

_Chekov struggled a bit, not wanting Jim to take any damage for him, but Jim only clung on tighter._

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

_He closed his eyes._

_This was it._

_Zero._

_And the only thing that Jim knew was pain and blackness._

It really wasn't much different than what Jim was feeling now, except that the sunlight was _killing_ his head. Yeah, that was definitely a concussion, and a pretty bad one. Shit. That was going to make things difficult, but at least that seemed to be the worst of all his injuries.

Mentally categorizing his wounds, he had no broken bones (thankfully), but he was going to be ridiculously bruised for weeks. God, even his eyes felt bruised, though he knew that most of the damage was going to be on his arms and shoulders – the price of taking the brunt of the impact from free-falling hundreds of feet.

It was well worth it if Chekov was uninjured, but the teenager hadn't stirred since Jim started moving about, and it was worrying Jim more than anything.

With a sharp exhale, Jim clambered out of the container with a muffled groan. His muscles protested every single movement, but he still reached in to grab his backpack and sling it over his shoulders before he moved onto Chekov.

"Chekov," Jim breathed, shaking Chekov gently. "Wake up."

But Chekov didn't respond.

Jim leaned back, running his hand through his hair as he tried to come up with a solution. He glanced around at the wreckage around them. They had landed in the middle of a forest and took chunks of it down with them. Pieces of the shuttle were still on fire around them, buried into the ground like jagged tombstones and marking the place where they should have died. Few things survived the impact – the containers that were made of durable material like the ones they used on the _Enterprise_'_s_ hull and a couple of giant pieces of the shuttle that made up its exterior.

Smoke rose from the crash site, like a flashing beacon to their location.

Jim wasn't sure how long they had been unconscious, but he knew they didn't have much time before Wolff's men came searching for his body. Wolff would want confirmation of his supposed death. Jim had to get him and Chekov to safety before that happened. This was one incident where it would be detrimental if he got captured – there would be nothing that Jim could do once he was in Wolff's hands. Wolff wouldn't let such an opportunity go to waste and Jim would be dead before he would have the chance to utter a death threat.

With no other choice, Jim reached into the bin and slid his arms under Chekov's knees and shoulders and heaved with a loud grunt.

Staggering away from the site, Jim carried Chekov as far as he could, but with each step, he could feel his strength waning and his body giving out on him. Sweat dripped down his brow as the exertion pained him to his very soul, but he had to keep going. For Chekov.

Just another step, he would tell himself, and keep moving on. He hadn't found a suitable hideout yet and despite being in the woods, they were an open target from the crash site.

His vision suddenly blackened at the edges, and Jim found himself crumbling to his knees, barely able to breathe. The world spun nauseatingly and he couldn't even orientate himself properly. His hold on Chekov broke and he heard, rather than saw, Chekov fall to the ground before him.

Shaking, he reached out for Chekov, but his body and his _pounding_ head was having none of it.

Chekov's blurry and unconscious face was the last thing Jim saw before everything faded into nothingness.

He wasn't even aware of the eyes that were watching him from the trees, let alone react to the hands that started dragging him and Chekov away.

In a few minutes, all that was left of Jim and Chekov's rescue mission was a few burning pieces of metal and trees.

* * *

><p>A low murmur of voices echoed at the fringe of his consciousness. It was like background static at first – nothing made sense and it was just white noise. The sounds faded in and out and he thought he heard a familiar laughter, but there was too much pain in his head. His head throbbed with a vengeance, cutting off any semblance of thought in his mind. It didn't quite matter though. He was just so, <em>so<em> tired. Of what, he wasn't sure, but he was sure that he didn't want to wake up anyway.

So he just let go and welcomed the darkness that consumed him.

* * *

><p><em>He was running. His lungs were inches away from bursting and terror was threatening to explode from his chest. He didn't know where he was, but he just knew that he had to keep running, to keep moving. Black hands reached out for him and he wrenched away, twisting his body to get away. But his foot stepped on nothing and he found himself plunging down, deeper and deeper into the darkness.<em>

_He landed hard on his back. Coughing, he kept still, feeling pain spear through his body._

"What are you doing?"_ a young voice called out._

_Terrified, he jumped to his feet, his hands subconsciously up and ready for defense. _

_Before him was a young boy in his pre-teens. The boy's grey-blue eyes stared straight forward, penetrating flesh and soul, and it made him shiver with trepidation._

"What are you doing?"_ the boy asked again._

"_I don't know," he responded truthfully._

"Get up. You can't waste time lying here."

_Indignation rose in him. "I'm not. I'm standing."_

"You're wasting time. He's coming. You have to be prepared."

"_Who's coming?"_

"The one who's going to take everything from you. Get up. Wake up."

_But he didn't know how. He didn't know where he was or who he was, but there was an ingrained fear that was making his bones hurt. "What if I can't?"_

_Bodies of small children that he had once intimately known and loved suddenly appeared, sprawled all around him. _"Then history will repeat itself."

_Horror and bile rose in his throat as the memories of a past that could not and should not be forgotten slammed into him like a freight train._

"_No…" he whimpered. "I can't do this again…I can't…"_

_The boy stepped forward, his right hand clenching into a fist. _"Then wake up."

"_But I'm so tired…I'm so tired of struggling, of fighting. I don't want to lose anything anymore."_

"You can rest when this is all over. Until then, you will fight. You will struggle. You will do everything and anything to win this one last fight."

"_And after?" His voice was meek and soft._

"Then you can rest." _The boy raised his fist. _"But you have to wake up first."

_And the blow landed square on his face, tearing him away from the darkness._

* * *

><p>Jim slammed to consciousness, his instincts taking over before his mind was truly awake. In a single fluid movement, he drew the blade strapped to his ankle and spun off the ledge or whatever he was lying on to grab the nearest threat and slam it to the wall, pinning his knife to its neck.<p>

Adrenaline pumped through his veins; blood rushed through his ears. He was still trapped in the aftermath of his dream that he didn't even know what he was doing.

He barely registered the feeling of someone tugging at his sleeve. Slowly, yet rapidly, the fog dissipated and he heard Chekov panicking beside him, calling out for him.

"Keptin! Keptin! Let her go!" he cried out, trying so hard to move Jim's steel arms.

In the second that Jim realized that Chekov was beside him, clearly still alive, he was wrenched out of his trance-like state in a nauseating manner. Like a veil lifted, Jim suddenly saw who he had pinned under his blade.

It was a teenager who was clearly not that much older than sixteen. She had long black hair that she had tied tightly behind her into a ponytail. Her complexion was pale, almost like ceramic, and she had large, black-brown eyes that stared steadily from beneath her bangs to look directly at Jim. There was no fear within those irises or even in her beautiful, angled features that almost made her seem elfish.

Horror and utter shock spread across Jim's face and he dropped his knife and his hold on her so fast it was like he had been burned by both things.

"I'm sorry," Jim breathed, rubbing his face and stepping back into Chekov. "Sorry…I didn't realize…"

She flicked her hair and placed her hands on her hips, undaunted by the violence that was brimming under Jim's exterior. "It's fine. I shouldn't have touched you anyway. Your friend there warned me not to get close if you were having a nightmare."

Bewildered, Jim glanced back at Chekov, only to catch sight of six different children crowded around them. The youngest was probably four years old: she had ginger hair that had been messily tied up into two pigtails and a light splatter of freckles over her nose; her green eyes shown with fear and tears as she hugged a dirty, raggedy doll in her arms. Besides her was a boy – brown-haired, brown-eyed, and looked as if he wanted to melt into the background under Jim's stare. He couldn't have been more than five years old.

Jim closed his eyes before his ability to meticulously remember details seared the faces of these new children into his mind – before he saw his ghosts hidden behind those innocent faces. It didn't help that the young boy was a dead ringer for little Charlie whom Jim had lost so many years ago to Kodos.

He took three calming breaths before he turned to look back at the teenager he had almost injured while keeping a slightly trembling hand on Chekov's shoulder to steady himself.

_This was not Tarsus. This was _not_ Tarsus…_

God, they were even hiding out in cave.

No. Jim wouldn't let himself go there. Under the strain of _needing_ to save his family and the necessity of keeping the darkness within himself (the side of him that he was absolutely terrified of), he was unraveling rapidly, and he could feel it. Every edge of himself felt frayed and tattered. The only thing keeping him from just giving up and lying down in surrender to all the shit that had happened in his life was his mission.

He used to be so much stronger than this. He used to be able to take anything and still come out smiling, but that concept seemed foreign to him now.

The darkness at the edges of his mind grew just a bit more, but Jim didn't have the time nor the energy to dissect it and define it.

He worked to figure out the right question to ask the girl before him. Why were there kids here looking like they had been starved and beaten? Why the hell were they hiding out in this cave? Where were their parents? But Jim was afraid to ask. He was afraid of opening that can of worms that would never be able to be put back.

So he asked the one thing he could to the girl who reflected himself when he was thirteen: "What's your name?"

"Thea." She flicked her finger to point at the tallish boy next to her. (Jim guessed he was in his early teens, maybe twelve, but he couldn't be sure with how thin and drawn the boy was.) "This is my little brother, Liam."

Liam stood beside Thea – their features strikingly similar; almost as if they were twins – but he clearly did not hold the same confidence and strength as his older sister. While Thea stood straight and proud with her body held slightly forward, ready to protect her brother and the kids at any moment's notice, Liam shrank behind her, his shoulders hunched to make him smaller.

"Behind you is Lisa," she pointed at the girl who was hugging her doll.

Jim stiffened minutely when Thea gestured to the boy who looked just like Charlie, making Chekov shoot him a curious and concerned glance. "That's Eric."

Slowly, and a little bit unwillingly, Jim turned to look at the last two children among them. Both were boys; the eldest of the two was probably about nine years old – the same age as Joanna – while the other seemed to be around seven. They were clearly brothers, either by blood or bond, because of the way they hovered and protected each other. They both had dirty blonde hair and wide, brown eyes. Like the rest of the children, their plain shirt and pants had been worn out and were on the verge of becoming rags. The younger one was much thinner than the other and was clinging onto the arm of the other, hiding his sniffles with his brother's arm.

"And that's Tommy and Daniel," Thea finished.

Tommy, the elder one, hugged his brother closer to him. "He likes to be called Danny," he retorted.

At the call of his name, Danny shrank back, fear written all over his face.

Without really thinking (all that ran through his mind was how much he just wanted to mollify that little boy's fears), Jim leaned down and greeted the boy. "Hi, Danny," Jim said with a gentle smile on his face. He never could leave a scared child be. "Nice to meet you. I'm…" he started, but before he had the chance to make up a fake name, Thea jumped in.

"James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the _Enterprise_," she said with such conviction and a hint of wariness in her tone.

Jim turned back around, frowning. He glanced at Chekov, who shook his head at Jim's silent question.

"Your friend didn't tell us who you are," Thea confirmed. "Didn't even tell us who he was. But I've seen your face on the news before. You're not a man that's easily forgotten, Captain."

Subconsciously, Jim shifted to place himself before Chekov and Thea. She was just a kid, but she had every means to take the both of them down by simply yelling out that she had found them.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, relax. I'm not about to report you to Greenaway. If I was going to do that, I would've left you two in the clearing where his men would've found you. You've been out for two days, by the way."

"What?! Two days?!" Jim barked out, panic and surprise making him forget about the possible imminent danger that he and Chekov were in.

"You had a wery bad concussion, Keptin," Chekov explained. "Ve could not keep you avake for wery long."

That explained why Jim's head still pounded. Even now, he felt so weak and exhausted.

"And you?" Jim asked, quickly scanning Chekov, as if his eyes had the capability for x-rays.

"I'm fine, Keptin, thanks to you."

Jim eyed him harshly. "Are you lying?"

Chekov shook his head quickly. "I'm covered in bruises, like you, but other zhan zhat, I'm alright, Keptin. Promise."

Satisfied with Chekov's answer, Jim nodded. "Anything happen while I was out?" Jim asked, his eyes flickering towards Thea.

In that instant, she stiffened and an impassive expression crossed her face. She stood rim-rod straight, like a soldier, and looked stoic under Jim's gaze, as if the act could make seem anything other than what she was: a young teenager girl who was desperately to stay strong.

And all of a sudden, Jim was able to read _everything_ about her.

She was afraid, but not of her own mortality, but of those around her. She was strong, yet, she questioned her every decision and wondered if she was making the right choices. The whole world was on her shoulders, weighing down those thin limbs so much that she almost bowed underneath it, but she hid all that – all her insecurities, all her fears and doubts – under that proud, confident mask. It was something she desperately clung to for her very sanity. Something that, if broken, would break her too.

There was such depth in her eyes – all innocence of childish naivety was gone. But there was still hope. And Jim recognized it, but it wasn't hope that she'd survive this whole ordeal. No, she was far too intelligent to believe in such fairytales, at least for her. Whatever Greenaway and Wolff did, they were on their own. These mere children were left to the wild to die. Always running, always fighting. Merely surviving and clinging onto the last inch of their lives.

The hope that Jim saw had nothing to do with Thea and her need to do whatever it took to keep these kids safe and alive. It had to do with the fact that there was still humanity within Thea's brown-black irises. There was still warmth, kindness, and profound desire to just be comforted by her parents – to not have to carry all these burdens and responsibilities, but they were buried so deep that she probably barely even felt any of it anymore. But it was still there, which is more than Jim could ever hope for.

Because in front of him wasn't just a girl.

It was like looking into a mirror: she was him at thirteen years old. She was J.T. a few short steps before he became so cold and so cynical. She was J.T. with hope because he knew that soul couldn't shatter like glass a second time.

And in that brief moment, Jim just knew that he had to save her. No matter what.

But could he? He was barely even sure if he could save his friends in the first place, let alone six children who didn't have the training and skills as the rest of his crew. And this whole thing was cutting far too close to home. With his memories that he had constantly kept locked up in the back of his mind threatening to resurface, Jim wasn't even sure if he was going to be sane enough to function.

God. He had forgotten how tiring and horrifying it was to not be sure of himself. To be afraid of himself and the lengths he would go to in order to protect people.

He was so tired. He had forgotten what it was like to have something to lose, and Wolff was right: it truly was a weakness, at least for people like him. Jim was never meant to be happy – he had should have come to terms with that so long ago.

Jim's sentiment and attachment had always been a disadvantage. It rang true with his childish need for Winona's attention, leading him straight down a spiral of self pity and abuse from her neglect and Frank's bottles. Whatever was left of his broken heart and soul died with each of his kids that he lost on that godforsaken dying planet. And then there was nothing. He remembered how easy it was to just flit around the world, learning and moving on, never staying still in one place for long. The moment anyone learned his name, he was gone, like the fading ghost that he was.

He didn't know when he let himself feel again. Maybe it started when Pike nearly blew out his eardrums with that loud whistle of his. Or maybe it was when McCoy threw up on him. He couldn't even figure out how McCoy had become Bones. Sure, he knew _when_ it happened, but he hadn't thought that he would ever let anyone come that close again. And here Jim was, with the best crew in the world and six people who were his family that he would die before he let them come to harm.

He couldn't believe that, somewhere down the road, in the Academy, on the _Enterprise_, he had allowed himself to become happy. To dull his senses and enjoy life like he should have never done. The smiles and laughter that chased away his darkness were an illusion.

He should've known. No matter how far he ran, no matter how hard he tried, chaos and devastation followed him everywhere. It was just a fact – there was nothing to dispute.

He had spent all those years after Tarsus and before the Academy pushing people away, living a solitary lifestyle to protect others from him and everything that he dragged along with him.

But then he met Bones and he became lax in his defenses.

If he hadn't let himself give in to his pathetic need to fill in all the voids in his life, they wouldn't be in this situation at all.

Perhaps Wolff would still have come up with this plot to bring Jim down, but it wouldn't have been so easy for all this to happen.

His family wouldn't have been held as bait.

He was the reason Bones, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, Scotty, Chekov, and his entire crew was in danger.

He closed his eyes. It wasn't Wolff who posed the most danger. It was him. And that was the unavoidable truth.

Something in him snapped, like a twine breaking as it was being unraveled from a ball of yarn.

There was no stopping it now. The darkness was coming.

"Keptin?" Chekov questioned, worry clear in his voice. He was tugging on Jim's sleeve. How had Jim _not_ noticed that? Oh yeah. He had had a concussion. No wonder his thoughts were so scattered.

"I'm fine," Jim said, almost automatically. "Sorry. What did you say?"

Thea flicked her hair impatiently. (There was fear in her eyes – fear of what Jim had seen from deep within her soul, but she hid it well.) "As we were saying, Greenaway's men have been combing the woods to find the two of you. Why are they looking for you?"

"Why are you hiding out in a cave?" Jim asked back tiredly.

A look of stubborn indignation made its way onto her face as she crossed her arms. "I honestly don't think you have the right to be asking the questions around here, Captain. We could have easily turned you in."

"And for that, I thank you. But you still don't have the higher ground here. It's obvious that you went to great lengths to find us and shelter us, which means that somehow or another, you need us. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to know what happened."

Thea eyed him suspiciously.

Jim sighed and in his usual graceful manner, plopped down on the ground. He was still a bit dizzy from his concussion. Chekov immediately joined him, his arms always touching in silent support. "We were always going to help you and these kids, Thea. We would've come saved you even if you didn't help us. There was never any question about that, so stop looking at me like we're going to leave you all behind. We need to know what happened. I need all the facts before I can make my first move against Greenaway and his people."

She tilted her head, distrust evident on her face. "What should I believe anything you say? Starfleet has clearly failed in protecting her citizens, and you expect me to believe that the most renowned Captain will go out of his way to save a couple of kids that are supposed to be dead already?"

A lifetime ago, Jim had said those exact same words.

He leaned forward, keeping his eyes on hers. "I know it must feel like you've been forgotten and discarded like you don't matter. The hell you've all been through is horrifying and cannot be put in words. I get it. You have no reason to trust Starfleet and I'm not telling you to. I'm asking you to trust _me_."

"Why should I?" she shot back immediately. "You're just their dog! How am I supposed to be sure that you aren't going lie to us like Greenaway did to our parents and the rest of Zenobia?"

"Then why did you save us?" Jim asked quietly. "Like you said, you could have easily turned us over to Greenaway in exchange for your freedom. But instead, you brought us back to your hideout and even tended to our injuries. If you really believe that I am just dog of Starfleet, why did you save us?"

"I…" she hesitated.

Jim's voice grew soft and his eyes rose slowly to connect with Thea's, and all of a sudden, she was drowning into the depths of those blues. "It's been hard on you, hasn't it? I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that you were put in this situation. But you're not alone. Not anymore. I'll make sure of that. I _will_ save you and your kids. I promise."

"I don't need your pity," she snapped. "We were doing fine on our own before you showed up."

"And I have no doubt about that. I'm not pitying you, Thea. After all you've been through, I know that that's the last thing you want."

Instantly, she was furious and practically snarling at him. "You know nothing of what we've been through."

"I would if you tell me," Jim sighed.

She crossed her arms, a stubbornness borne from anger showing on her face.

Jim ran a hand through his hair, ignoring how it made his head twinge a bit. He really didn't want to talk about himself, but he knew that Thea was never going to be open with him if she was under the illusion that Jim was the perfect soldier with that glamorous life. He didn't believe anyone from Starfleet back then either. How could he when he and his kids were left to die on a godforsaken planet? How could he when no one could possibly understand the hell that he and his kids lived through?

"You've heard of Tarsus IV, haven't you?" Jim said, forcing his voice to stay steady.

Chekov was immediately beside him, his side pressing against Jim's as quiet support.

Thea raised her chin. "Yeah, what of it?"

"You're looking at one of the nine survivors. More specifically, you're looking at the one who tried and failed to keep all but eight alive."

His blue eyes were piercing now, with such loss and devastation that it couldn't even compare to what Thea saw in her own. She sucked in a breath, the sharp gasp echoing around the silent cave.

Jim's voice was low and soft, and it hid his tremble well. "Do you still think that I don't know what you're going through?"

"I'm sorry…" she whispered.

But she wasn't apologizing for distrusting him or being so hostile, and Jim knew it. As kindred spirits, he knew that she was saying sorry for all that he had to do to keep him and his kids alive back on Tarsus. She was saying sorry because she knew what those choices did to one's soul – how it tore and shredded, leaving gaping black holes that just ate away until there was nothing left.

"As am I," Jim breathed back, and she knew he wasn't only speaking for himself.

She nodded curtly once, and the two broken threads connected in a way that no one else could possibly understand. And Jim knew that he was going to save her life and her kids, and more importantly, her very soul. He had to. For her as much as for himself. He had to believe that, if someone had been there for him, then maybe, he too, could have been saved from being stained black permanently.

Jim gave her a small encouraging smile. "So, will you tell me what happened here? Why did you guys flee to the woods?"

Thea flicked her hair briefly as she leaned back against the cave wall. "Several years ago, Zachariah Greenaway took the seat of the Head Council. He was charming and he made promises that he would bring about more prosperity and peace among us, and he kept up his brilliant act until about a year ago. Around that time, he had people coming in from other places – people who no one had ever seen before. His men grew in numbers and soon, their numbers outweighed the general population by two fold. No one minded and everyone was content with their lives. But then the crops began to die."

Jim flinched, unable to suppress the motion, but Thea continued, pretending that she hadn't seen the memories resurfacing.

"We had all thought that the Goddess was angry at us and turned to Greenaway to ask for help. He told us to go home and that he would figure out what to do. The next day, he sent his men out to all the villages, claiming that they were out to find the reason behind the crops dying. No one suspected anything until it was too late."

"They came for the children, didn't they?" Jim questioned, his voice soft. It was the only thing Jim could think of that would force all the villagers to turn against the crew of the _Enterprise._ Otherwise, he was sure that his people would never have let themselves get captured without so much of a fight.

She nodded, practically spitting her next words. "For 'leverage', he said. He threw all the kids into his prisons and held them for ransom to get everyone to obey him unconditionally." Her fists clenched and her jaw tightened. "No one had any weapons. We were all farmers. There was nothing we could have done against his trained soldiers. Those who fought and tried to protect their kids were immediately killed and put down. And those who had no children were executed publicly."

Her brown eyes were bright with unspoken wrath as she raised them to stare Jim down. "All the children were taken, Captain. Every single one of them, save for these few that I managed to bring with me."

"How did you get out?"

"Liam and I had been out, wandering the woods to find the Goddess and ask her to bring our harvests back. By the time we returned home, we found our village on fire. We found the rest of these kids as we ran from village to village, gathering all the survivors that we could find."

"And your parents?" Jim pushed gently.

"Dead."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Greenaway will be sorrier when I get my hands on him." She glared at him. "And don't you even think of stopping me."

Jim raised his hands in surrender. "I wouldn't dream of it," he lied. He knew that the only reason why she hadn't fully become J.T. was because her hands were still free of blood. There was no need to dirty innocent, pure hands when his were already so dirty. "My only stipulation is that you leave his nephew to me. I've got a bone to pick with him."

"Deal. Now, why are _you_ here? I know that Greenaway blocked all communications out, so how did Starfleet know to come here?"

"How do you know that?" Jim tilted his head in curiosity.

She shrugged. "I may have snooped around a bit to gather more information."

He cracked a grin at that. "You and I are going to get along famously." The smile slid off his face as he continued speaking. "Royce Wolff, Greenaway's nephew, plotted to take me down and asked his dear old uncle for a favor. With information that was stripped bare of any detail, Wolff and Greenaway lured the _Enterprise_ here to check out the claims that 'plague' had attacked your crops."

"But you weren't part of the original landing party. I was hiding just beyond the clearing and saw all the people that beamed down. I would've recognized you if you were there."

Jim actually looked sheepish at that. "I was kind of locked up in a maximum security prison back in San Francisco."

"Kind of?" She raised an eyebrow that reminded Jim of Spock. "What did you do?"

"Wolff framed me for the murder of an Admiral."

"That would do it."

"Yeah, it was a fun couple of days before I escaped." He glanced at her. "You said you saw the people who beamed down. I assume it was small? Do you know what happened to the rest of the crew? There's no way that they wouldn't realize that something had gone wrong when their commanding officers didn't return to the ship."

"I heard someone – probably this Wolff that you spoke of – say that he embedded a virus or something into the system so all communications were shut off. He said that without his consent, no one could leave and if anyone tried to do anything, his men onboard would take care of it."

"That bast-" Jim trailed off, looking at the kids and adjusted his language quickly. "Jerk...Great. So, my commanding crew is being held prisoner and probably being tortured as we speak. My ship is dead in the air and I've got nothing but my wits and kids to take Greenaway and Wolff down." Jim ran his fingers through his hair. "Piece of cake," he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"I am not a kid, Keptin," Chekov protested wildly.

"And I wouldn't say that you have nothing," Thea said, grinning. "Come. I need to show you what we've stolen from Greenaway's soldiers. You're going to love it."

* * *

><p>It was like candy-land compared to the desolation Jim saw around him. Thea had certainly been busy. Sitting in the adjacent cave to the one Jim had woken up in was a small mound of weapons and devices. Jim quickly squatted down and shifted through them all. The arms were archaic, quite like the ones that Jim used when he was hunting down Iosif. There were four Beretta 92s with the ammo half-full, three grenades, and a full set of bow and arrows lying against the wall. Next to those were a couple of broken communicators and one PADD with its screen cracked.<p>

It wasn't much, but Jim could definitely work with it.

He tossed Chekov the communicators. "Fix these, will you?"

Chekov knew better than to assume that Jim wanted him to just get the communicators working. "How vould you like me to configure zhem?"

"Leave one for communication. The other two, put a timer on them and attach them to the grenades when I say so." Jim picked up one of the Berettas and handed it to Chekov with a dark look in his eyes. "And keep this one on you."

"Keptin?" Chekov questioned, even as he reached out to take it from Jim, but not quite taking it. He had never handled 20th century guns, and he knew that Jim knew about it. So why was Jim giving him one now?

"I know, Chekov. But I need you and the rest of these kids safe, so take it, okay? If just to give me a peace of mind."

Chekov brought the gun closer to himself, nodding. "Vhat is zhe plan, Keptin?" he asked as he watched Jim start to arm himself with the rest the guns, tucking them into his belt.

"I'm going to do some patrolling and figure out the layout of the land. Do some recon before I make my move."

"Wait, wait, wait. You can't leave here," Thea protested. "Soldiers are crawling all over these woods looking for _you_. You walk out of here and they'll be on us in seconds. I've done my damnedest to keep all of us under the radar, and I sure as hell am not going to let you blow our cover."

Jim glanced at Thea, confidence in his eyes. "I'll make sure to cover my tracks. No one will find you guys if you stay here."

"How can you guarantee that?"

"Zhe Keptin is Starfleet's best operative," Chekov supplied.

"Yeah, the whole world knows that. But he's also known to be gaudy and flashy wherever he goes."

Chekov shook his head, "No, you do not understand. Zhe Keptin is Starfleet's best _undercover_ operative."

"She's not going to believe you even if you say that, Chekov," Jim sighed. He stood, holding out the cache of arrows and bow towards Thea. "If you don't trust me, you can come with me. I'll need your expertise to navigate around these woods."

She looked doubtful. "You're still recovering from a concussion, Captain."

"I've done more with worse injuries. And if we're going to do this, it's Jim. Or Kirk. Take your pick. I'm not Captain anymore."

Chekov frowned at that last bit, but he didn't comment. It wasn't the right time.

Jim held out the bow and arrows towards Thea. "Thank you for saving Chekov and me. Will you help me save the rest of my family?"

She held her head up, proud and strong. Like Jim had been when he was thirteen. "Only if you save mine too."

"I will, even if it's the last thing I do."

"Then, Jim, it looks like we have a deal," she said, taking the weapons from him and slipping the bow and arrows over her shoulder and around her back.

Jim grinned. "Let's go bring down the bastards who dared to mess with the people we care about."

Her feral smile matched his. "Let's."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued.<em>

* * *

><p>So...I'm still alive? Ish? I'm really sorry for not updating either of my stories for so long. School got far more hectic than I had ever expected, and then I got an ulcer from getting so stressed out, and then I hit a writer's block that I'm still trying to bully my way though. All excuses, I know, but it's been an awful, crazy busy past couple of months, and I truly apologize for being so late with my updates. Just to make you guys feel better, I'm halfway done with the next chapter of <em>Ingenious Idiot<em> and about the same for the next chapter of this story, so hopefully, they should be up within the next month or so (barring any ridiculous curveball which seems to happen all the goddamn time. Ugh. School sucks, people. It really does.)

I want to thank all of you guys for sticking with me and encouraging me through all the reviews and PMs. I really appreciate it. I swear, those were the only things that stopped me from getting completely stuck from writer's block. So thank you all. Honestly.

So, that's it for my little tidbit. Once again, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope you review! It makes my day. :)

Cheers,

Yuna


	9. Chapter 9: Trust

**Chapter 9**

**Trust**

"Have you found his body yet?" Wolff barked out, storming into the Great Hall where his soldiers had just returned from searching the woods.

He paid no attention to the civilians-turned-servants who scampered out of his way and plopped down on the grand, wooden throne like he belonged on it. His eyes narrowed as he watched his men shift uneasily under his scrutiny.

"Sir, we combed the site of the crash and the nearby woods, but we found nothing. No bodies, no signs of Kirk," one of the five soldiers responded meekly, clearly afraid of what Wolff would do to them.

"Well, what _did_ you see?" Wolff asked casually. "Paint a picture for me."

The soldier frowned. "Of what, sir?"

A flash of annoyance flickered across Wolff's face, followed by boredom. There was a barely suppressed sigh as he replied in a tone that was similar to one that someone would use with a particularly slow child. "The crash site, you idiots. What did you see that seemed out of ordinary? Better yet, tell me about the ship and the way it broke."

"There isn't very much to tell you, sir. The shuttle was broken to pieces. Nobody could have survived that."

"Kirk could. What was still intact?"

"Not much. The console was broken in two, the chairs were shattered, and so were the walls. There were a couple of storage units too, but those looked pretty mangled up too. One of them even had its door bashed open."

A grin suddenly spread across Wolff's face. "Good. Take a few more men and go scour the woods some more. Don't come back until you've found Kirk."

"How do you know that he's still alive, sir? His body could have burned up in the explosion."

Wolff waved a dismissive hand. He didn't want to waste precious minutes to explaining. "Just do what I say."

The soldiers bowed once and quickly made their way out, leaving Wolff to swing sideways on the throne and lean back a bit, kicking his legs up to rest on one of the armrests.

"Why is everyone around me so stupid?" he asked out loud.

"Is that why you're so pleased that Kirk is still alive?" a voice questioned.

Wolf didn't need to look to know who it was, but he still shifted a bit so he could see his uncle more clearly. "Good afternoon, Uncle," he said casually. "How may I help you?"

Greenaway was in his mid-fifties, but he had aged well with little wrinkles on his square-jawed face. He had a full head of brown-grey hair with deep green eyes that seemed to see far more than he gave away. He was tall, about six-feet-tall, and lean. There was power in every step, every movement, and it wasn't just physical. Charisma and authority oozed from his pores, forcing those with weak hearts to make way in his wake.

He crossed his arms, considering Wolff before turning to the servants around them. "Leave," he commanded in a hard voice that booked no argument. Instantly, the room cleared, leaving Wolff and Greenaway alone.

"Kirk is a dangerous man, Royce," Greenaway said, "I know how much you enjoy toying with the man, but every second he is alive, he threatens our plans."

"Relax, Uncle. If he hid in the storage units before the crash, then he has to be injured somehow. It'll be easy to pick him off once my men find him."

"And what are you doing about the giant ship floating just outside the atmosphere? You've said that the crew of the _Enterprise_ is extremely loyal to Kirk, and we've kept their Command crew in our dungeons for four days. They could be gearing up to storm down to rescue them by now."

"I've been keeping in contact with them, saying that diplomatic relations is tedious and it's taking time for us to hash things out. They don't seem to suspect anything as of now."

"They believe those lies?"

"Humans are stupid. They only see what they want to see. Besides, even if they have figured out what's going on, I've left enough men on the ship to subdue them. And there's no one left onboard to crack the programming I've set on their communications system."

"Be careful, Royce. You're getting careless in your excitement."

"I know what I'm doing, Uncle," snapped Wolff. "I don't need your lectures."

Greenaway bristled with anger and took a step forward. "Do _not_ use that tone with me, boy. You wouldn't even be here today without me."

Wolff immediately swung around, planting his feet solidly on the ground and facing off with his uncle with no hesitation. "And do not forget who it was that brought you to your position of power, Uncle. If it was not for me, you would not even be standing here on top of Zenobia."

"You need me, Royce, and what we have on Zenobia to pull one over on Starfleet."

"You haven't even managed to harness the Goddess' power yet! We need her to bring Starfleet to its knees, Uncle, but you haven't even been able to get a peak of her shadow! I thought you said that if you took all the children, she'll raise her head and come to their aid. But has she even shown up yet?"

"What about you? You have the goddamn Command crew bleeding out in our basement! What benefit do you have to keeping them alive?"

"Don't deflect, Uncle. We need the Goddess. You had one job." Wolff leaned back, thinking. "You said that the Goddess protected the children. Perhaps we're still too kind to them."

"Are you proposing that we harm the children?" Greenaway's eyebrow rose, but he didn't look perturbed.

"We've come this far, Uncle. Surely, that doesn't make you queasy. Where is your conviction?"

Now, Greenaway had anger in his eyes and he tilted his chin in confrontation. "And what of yours? You never answered why you're still keeping the _Enterprise _and her crew hostage. We don't need them, save for the ship itself."

Wolff smirked. "I'm just having a little fun. After playing the good boy for so long, I think I deserve it."

"Your bad habit is showing, Royce. You always play with your food before you eat it. What's your obsession with Kirk anyway?"

"He's a good man. And that just makes me want to mess with him more."

"You're twisted, Royce." But there was no heat behind Greenaway's words.

"Well, it takes one to know one, isn't that right, Uncle?"

Greenaway smiled. "You mind if I have a go at Kirk's men? I've been itching to get my hands on that woman of his."

"Have at it, Uncle. Just don't break the goods."

"Why not? Aren't you planning on killing them anyway?"

"I can't kill them now. I do and Kirk will break completely, and I want to see that happen in front of me."

"Enjoy, nephew, but don't let your enthusiasm cloud our endgame."

Wolff looked away, staring out into the open window with a grim expression on his face. "I won't. Believe me. As long as Kirk is still alive, I won't let my guard down."

"If he's still alive, why hasn't he shown his face yet?"

"He's too smart for that. But I have no doubt that he's lurking around somewhere, plotting and waiting for the right time." He flashed his uncle a feral smirk. "Trust me. I'll bet my life on it."

* * *

><p>The woods were quiet, save for the sounds of the birds and insects chirping around them. They were loud and obnoxious, but Jim found solace in the noises as he made his way quietly through the trees. He was careful to not brush up against any stray branches and break them on accident, and he kept a watchful eye on Thea doing the same, albeit a bit more choppy than his own graceful movements.<p>

She was clearly used to the bow and cache of arrows on her back, bending lower beneath leaves to prevent her weapons from getting caught on anything. A sense of smugness breezed through Jim. Even with his head pounded like monkeys playing bongos in his head, he was still able to note the worn wood of the bow, indicating how often it was used, and the brief second of her eyes flickering towards it when Jim first started to pocket in the few weapons that she had lifted.

It was her weapon of choice, and she had been using it since the moment Greenaway made his move, and Jim was glad he handed it to her. With what he had in his hands, his boot knife and the Berettas with a few bullets, he was limited to close combat in case they encountered any of Wolff's soldiers. He needed long-range backup – one that he knew that Chekov, unfortunately, couldn't provide.

"Hey, we've been walking for about five minutes now with you leading. Do you even know where you're going? Because this isn't the way to Greenaway's castle," Thea called out, her voice subdued.

Jim glanced at her briefly, taking in her expression of frustration, impatience, and distrust before moving on. "We're going back to the crash site," he said simply.

Thea frowned. "How do you that this is the right way?"

"Before we crashed, we were heading north-east. Judging by the position of the sun right now, we're going in the same direction." Jim said, eying the trees before him. "I was concussed after we hit the ground and all I could think about at that time was that I had to get Chekov away from there. If I was in the right mind, I would've changed up my route and covered up my tracks better. So, I'm pretty sure I just went straight, towards the sun, until I collapsed."

"Even half-conscious, you knew that you were going westward?"

"Chekov wasn't exaggerating when he said that I'm the best undercover agent Starfleet has."

"But that still doesn't explain how you knew to take this route from the cave."

"In order to bring Chekov and me back with you, you needed at least Liam's help. And you would never let Liam venture too far out or wander about while Greenaway and Wolff's men were out looking for us. Therefore, the most likely route you'd take is straight from the cave's opening. Hence us walking this way."

There was a moment of silence. "You didn't really need me, did you?"

"Not true. I don't know the way to Greenaway's castle. I mean, I could definitely find my way there sooner or later, but I don't exactly have the time to waste tracking Greenaway's men back to headquarters."

"Then why are you heading back to the crash site? I'd thought you would want to scope out the castle first."

"The crash site is the last place that Greenaway or Wolff would think to look for me now that they've searched for me there already, and there might still be some things I could use lying about. At this point, I'll take anything I can get."

"You have a backpack full of things that MacGyver would envy, and you still need more?"

Jim snorted. "You know about MacGyver? That was like centuries before your time."

"My father used to like watching old holos. I know for a fact that you have a phaser in your backpack, which is more than enough of a defense."

"Offense," Jim corrected absentmindedly as he moved underneath another branch. "That phaser is meant for offense. And it's too flashy to use when I'm trying to sneak around. Why are you going through my backpack anyway?"

"Had to make sure that you weren't carrying a bomb or anything," she returned, her tone almost matching his, "So what are you hoping for at the crash site?"

"Some way to contact my ship. I may be good, but even I'm not arrogant enough to think that me alone can take down Greenaway's _and_ Wolff's army."

"And if you can't?"

"I'll improvise."

They crept on in silence for a few more minutes before they reached the crash site. It was as Jim remembered: the ground was littered with debris and shattered metal pieces. Chunks of the shuttle stuck out of the dirt like gravestones. Even the storage container that had kept Jim and Chekov alive was left exactly the way it was.

Nothing had been touched. Nothing had been moved. It was perfect.

Immediately, Jim set to work, moving around like a shadow as he touched and uncovered various objects, throwing whatever was useless to a side. Thea watched carefully, noting how he would still go out of his way to make sure that the things that he tossed away would be returned to its relatively same spot. He was careful to cover his tracks, even as he tore apart the wreckage.

Curiosity was still biting at Thea. Despite Jim sharing all that he did, it still felt as though there was a barrier. He gave enough to answer the barest of questions, but did not divulge into details, and damn it, Thea wanted to know. If Jim was a Tarsus IV survivor, then he was more fit than anyone else to know what she and her kids were going through, and Thea needed to know something very, _very_ important.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" she finally asked after a few minutes of shifting around uneasily.

"Fire away," Jim replied, not even looking up from where he was tearing apart a circuit board and shoving parts of it into his backpack.

Thea hesitated a bit, biting down on her lower lip before asking shyly. "How did you survive?"

"Wit and sarcasm," came the curt reply. Jim clearly had thought that she was asking about the shuttle crash or at least his imprisonment under Wolff's hands.

"No, I mean, how did you survive Tarsus?" Her voice was so soft, but it held hope that Jim could never fulfill.

Jim completely froze and glanced at her with such sorrow in his eyes. He caught her eyes before looking back down at the ground, searching the wreckage for something only he could see. "I didn't," he answered simply. He moved forward a couple of steps. "Some part of me never left Tarsus. And it never will."

The silence behind him was stifling, and he knew exactly what Thea was thinking. Immediately, he turned and straightened. A bright smile – full of things that he could only _dream_ of – crossed his face as he shrugged, sticking his hands into his pockets. He looked almost boyish with the innocence and gladness in his expressions.

"That won't be you, Thea. You'll survive this. You and your kids."

There was such confidence in his words, but she felt none of it. She shook her head, and whispered. "You don't know that. You don't know anything. There's no hope left for me."

Jim quickly stepped forward and cupped her cheeks. His sparkling blue eyes drowned her. "There is. You know why?"

She would shake her head if she could.

"You're not me, Thea. You're far better than me. I see what you've done for your kids, but you've having lost yourself yet. Beneath all the hurt, all the pain and fear, you still haven't given up."

"How do you know I haven't? I never expected to survive this, Jim. As long as my brother and those kids live, that's all that matters."

"But you've won where I've lost, Thea. You've won."

"What do you mean? I've lost everything! My parents, my home, my friends! I'm only sixteen years old! I should be worrying about boys and rebelling, but all I've got on my mind is how to live through each day. All I can think about is how I'm supposed to find scraps of food without running into any soldiers and how to keep those kids safe! What have I won, Jim? Pray tell, because for all that is good and holy, I can't think of anything!"

Jim let go of her face and slowly reached down to hold her hands, bringing them up to eyelevel. "Because your hands are still clean. Unlike mine, you haven't let yourself fall so far that there was no coming back."

She looked away. "It's only a matter of time. I'll do anything to make sure Liam makes it through this."

"And that scares you more than anything else, doesn't it? The fact that you'll do _anything_, even if you gave up your soul, to keep them safe. I get it, I really do. But there's a reason why I know you'll survive this in one piece, soul intact. One _huge_ difference between you and me."

"Yeah? And what is that?"

Jim grinned. "You've got me."

It was so ridiculous that Thea felt a snort of laughter shake her small, trembling body. "And what makes you so arrogant to think that you'll make any difference in my life at all?"

"I'm James freaking Kirk. I can do anything I put my mind to. I don't believe in no-win scenarios." He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. "And I don't see a no-win scenario in front of me anyway."

She chuckled wetly, pulling away to swipe at the tears that were beginning to form. "You're delusional."

"Yes," Jim smirked, taking a step back. "But at least I'm not a dreamer. That ship has sailed a long time ago. Now, doesn't that make you feel better?"

"You must be joking. Just because you've got pretty eyes and a glib tongue doesn't mean that everything's all fine and dandy now, you know," Thea replied, her eyes shining in a way that hadn't happen for a very while now.

Jim batted his eyelashes. "You think I have pretty eyes?"

She pushed him away, rolling her eyes, leaving Jim to chuckle as he turned around to examine the ruins again.

She watched him again, but this time, in a whole new light. A few smooth words was never going to lift the burdens from her shoulders, nor was a smile going to do anything. Her fears were never supposed to be so easily uplifted and her hope had almost been long forgotten, but yet, Jim had done the impossible just by simply understanding. He wasn't patronizing nor did he pity her. He didn't presume to pretend that he knew exactly what had happened to her, but he _understood_.

There was a vast difference between feeling sorry _for_ her and being sorry that all this crap happened _to_ her. The former made her feel weak and vulnerable, like she was another poor orphan who couldn't fend for herself. The latter made her feel that she had done thus far to survive and keep her brother and those kids alive wasn't for naught.

If Jim hadn't gone through something similar, and probably through something that was far worse than she could ever imagine, she had no doubt that she would have seethed in furious anger if he even _tried_ to assume what was going through her head. People would _never_ be able to understand the desolation and the desperation of trying to make it through the day, one hour at a time. They wouldn't understand what it was like to have to crawl and beg until the raw flesh of their fingers were bleeding. Having her world turned upside down and dyed a permanent crimson color was not something that she could easily explain, nor did she ever think she would be able to, and if anyone tried to empathize with her? Well, she reserved the right to break someone's nose.

But Jim was a different story entirely. He took everything that he had learned and experienced, all that he hated about himself and what had happened, and spun it in a way that he grew from it all. He had pieced together those broken pieces of his soul so meticulously that he could stand before everyone today as the Captain of the _Enterprise _and as someone who could bring her back into the light.

He had lost so much of himself to Tarsus – that much Thea could see – but he was still able to come out of the other end stronger. And if he could do it, then so could she. But even if she couldn't – even if she fell through the wafer-thin ice she was standing upon – at least she knew that there was someone there to catch her.

By a few smooth words and a bright smile, Thea felt all the despair, desperation, and fear of keeping her kids alive shift from her shoulders to Jim's. Simply by meeting Jim, she had been saved in a sense, but if Jim was doing all the saving, who was going to save him?

Jim grabbed hold of a few wires, bending down closer to gut the console further, with a look of concentration on his face. His shoulders looked so strong and stable to Thea, and yet, she couldn't possibly fathom the weight that was on them. He had to save his family and crew – people that he would give _anything_ to protect – get his ship back from Wolff and debunk the whole scandal behind Jim's arrest, and hold up the enormously heavy expectations of Starfleet and the world to be _the_ Captain of the flagship. And, without a second's thought, he added Thea's burdens on top of everything else like it was nothing, even though it seemed like he could and should be crushed at any time.

How the hell could he still stand up so straight? He must have been drowning and screaming for help since this entire fiasco started, but there was no one to hear him. He couldn't call out to anyone because the only ones that could've pulled him up from under the water were the very ones that Jim had to save. He was spiraling down as time went on, that much was clear, but he couldn't let himself fall just yet. Not when he had so much to do and expectations to fulfill. He was an elastic coil, stretched out so far that he was _inches_ from snapping. He was barely clinging on through the sheer force of will.

Somehow, Thea knew that the only ones that could bring Jim back from the brink were sitting in some cell in the basement of Greenaway's castle. She had no power, and honestly, no ability or emotional strength, to help Jim out in any way, but if she could get him to his family, the people who could help him faster, then maybe he wouldn't break quite as much when this was all over.

She stepped forward, scanning the ground for anything electronic that wasn't too shattered. "Do you have everything you need? What else are you looking for?"

Jim looked up from where he was sitting on the ground, playing with what looked like a broken communicator, half of a dashboard, and a few pieces of stripped wires. He had already formed some sort of device and his fingers were practically dancing as he made more modifications. "I think I got all that I need." He stood, holding the makeshift object carefully, as if it was a baby. "We should head out to Greenaway's castle now. We don't want to be away from the cave for too long."

Thea nodded and pointed behind Jim, towards the east. "It's that way. It's probably around a thirty minute walk."

"Lead on, then, Thea," Jim said, a little bit distracted.

She easily took point and trudged into the forest again. She glanced over at her silent companion. Jim was already back to being preoccupied with the electronic in his hands. His backpack was slung precariously and yet, balanced across his shoulder; no doubt for easy reach of his weapon now that they were about to embark into more dangerous territory.

They walked on in silence for ten or so minutes while Jim focused on the project in his hands. There was a slight clicking sound when he completed the makeshift communicator, followed by empty static. Without breaking his stride, Jim shut it off and threw it into his backpack.

"I thought you were going to use that to contact your people?" Thea commented.

"I'll need Chekov for that. I have no doubt that Wolff encrypted all communications, to and from the ship, so I need those PADDs that Chekov's working on to find a subroute around Wolff's programs."

"How old is Chekov anyway? He can't be that much older than me, and yet he's the Navigator on the _Enterprise_?"

Jim's chest swelled with pride. "Yeah, he was only seventeen years old when the Narada incident happened. Child prodigy, I'm telling you. The kid is absolutely brilliant. The ship and I wouldn't be here a thousand times over if it wasn't for him."

"Is that why you left him back at the cave? To keep him safe?"

"Partially. Mostly, it's because Wolff doesn't know I smuggled him onto this planet, which means I have a hidden advantage. He's my secret weapon. "

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much about your friend's safety. He's still considered a child according to the laws of Zenobia, which means he's under the Goddess' protection."

Jim frowned, confused. "Is that some sort of task force or law? Because I thought that the Goddess was just a belief."

She shook her head. "She's more than a belief. The Goddess has been known to emerge during dark times to protect the children of Zenobia."

He tilted his head, trying to understand. "So she's actually a living being?"

"Spirit, is probably a better term for her, but yes. Or so the legends go. Her powers are great, though no one knows the extent of her abilities besides her blessings over the land." Thea shrugged, "But I have yet to see her do anything against Greenaway."

"Maybe she's hiding from him. If what you say is true, and that is common knowledge to Zenobians, I'm pretty sure that they've thought to capture the Goddess to harness her powers. I wouldn't be surprised if that's part of the reason why they took all the children."

Thea paused. "I hadn't thought of that."

"How do you know she really exists anyway? Or are you sure she's not just a legend?"

"Records have said that she appeared."

"Right, but how long ago?"

"Centuries."

"And the people of Zenobia still believe in her?"

Thea crossed her arms, getting slightly irritated now. "Yes. I believe in her too."

Jim raised his hands in a mollifying manner. "I'm not trying to condemn your belief, Thea. Honest. I'm just trying to piece things together. Is that why the townsfolk won't do anything against Greenaway? Other than him holding their children hostage, do they not feel the need to stand up and fight back because they believe the Goddess will come and save them?"

"I have no idea."

"Greenaway's a bastard."

Thea rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What gave you that idea?"

"Seriously. I may be a manipulative son of a bitch who's going to hell, but I have at least never used a person's belief against them. It's like desecrating a grave - you don't mess with something as pure as faith."

"Do you believe in something, Jim?"

There was a beat of silence before Jim turned to her slowly with a cocky smirk on his face that hid the sadness and pain of his past in his eyes. "Yeah, I believe in myself. I'm just so fabulous, after all."

She rolled her eyes, seeing through him easily. Another month, and even she would have lost her faith in the Goddess. But the answer to all her prayers was standing before her with a cocky smirk, despite losing his own faith.

So she did the only thing she could, and smiled genuinely for the first time in what seemed like forever. "I believe in you too."

His grin grew broader. "I would tell you that that's a bad idea, but I'd be lying then. I'm awesome." He patted her comfortingly on her back. "You good?"

"Yeah." Thea looked up at him and saw those bright blue eyes. Her heart thumped unnaturally for a brief moment and found that she was absolutely alright with the rush of emotions that she had locked away. Her smile softened softly, making her seem just like the sixteen-year-old teenager that she was supposed to be. "Yeah, I'm good."

* * *

><p>Jim and Thea crouched down at the edges of the clearing surrounding Greenaway's castle. The green shrubbery was thick enough to hide their presences, even as they popped their head out to scout out the cavalry. There were gentries posted at every possible entrance of the castle; the drawbridge was drawn up, leaving a twenty feet wide moat between Jim and the front door. If he tried to cross that while under scrutiny of Greenaway and Wolff's men, he would be struck down in seconds.<p>

At least twenty men were posted on the battlements, but that was only on the north side. He was going to need to get closer if he wanted a better idea of the castle defense. And he really needed to know what sort of weapons Wolff and Greenaway were hiding in the keep of the castle. If they were using the keep as it was intended to be - the last defense of the castle - whatever was inside it could very well make or break Jim's plans.

"I'm going to go get a better look at things," Jim whispered to Thea. "Stay here so I know where to come find you again, okay?"

She nodded mutely.

Satisfied, Jim stood up and took a few steps away from her, his eyes already focused on the task before him. Thea blinked once, and Jim seemingly disappeared from her view completely. He had literally merged into the shadows of the trees, becoming one with the green.

With slight surprise, Thea realized that he really wasn't exaggerating when he said that he was the best operative that Starfleet had. She wondered if he learned his almost inhuman skills from Tarsus, but she honestly didn't want to ask. She had a feeling that Jim was hiding more than he was letting on, and people were entitled to their secrets. Especially Jim.

She sat back on her heels, her eyes straining to see if they could even catch a glimpse of her elusive friend. She couldn't have been there for more than twenty or so minutes, her attention on high alert, before she heard rustling amongst the trees. Her grip on her bow and arrow tightened and she pressed herself against the trunk of a tree. Voices reached her ears, becoming louder and louder.

Mentally, she prepared herself for the worst, thinking that she was going to have to attack them to survive. Without really noticing it, her hands began to tremble slightly at the prospect of having to possibly hurt these men. It made the string on her bow quiver with a low hum.

Jim had been gone for probably a little over twenty minutes. There was no possibility that he had finished canvassing the castle yet. She would have to deal with these men herself. She couldn't risk getting caught – she knew that she would be tortured for Jim's location, or worse, her kids' hideout. She had had lived a fairly decent life up until now, free of turmoil or pain: she had no doubt that she would crack easily under the prospect of more pain.

She straightened up, steeling herself even as she felt her stomach twist in a painful knot. Her hands shook terribly and she closed her eyes, breathing slowly. If she could picture these men – these human beings like Liam and her – as deer or game, she could do this. She _had_ to do this.

The sounds came closer and she could now make out the conversation between what seemed like two soldiers. Just another couple of feet and she knew that she would be discovered. It was now or never.

Resolving her will, she rolled back her shoulders and with a quick exhale, she wordlessly sprang out, her bowstring pulled back as far as it could go.

Shock and surprise were clearly written all over the soldiers' faces, but she didn't have time to consider them. Taking a split second to aim, she let loose her arrow and watched the feathers twirl had high speed with a sinking heart.

So much for hoping to keep her soul intact. So much for Jim's promise to her, but it was either her or her kids. And she was never going to choose anything other than them.

All of a sudden, there was a loud crashing sound and Thea took a step back, notching her bow again with a new arrow in anticipation of the new threat. She hadn't expected to see Jim literally fall from the trees and land squarely on the shoulders of one of the soldiers so that he was practically sitting on him. Jim rotated roughly with his thighs, flipping the soldier so hard that he crashed against the ground, smashing his face into the soil with Jim crouching above him.

Jim had literally moved so fast that he had taken down that soldier in the blink of an eye – quick enough to shove the man out of the way of the arrow that Thea had shot at him, though just barely. The arrowhead did skim across Jim's arm, which he had raised in defense of the man, and left a tiny scratch, but Jim didn't even pause.

In the next instant, he reached forward, grabbed the hapless man's head between his two hands, and twisted. The resounding crack echoed in the forest, making Thea flinch harshly.

"What the…?!" was the only thing the dead man's companion got out before Jim drew out his boot knife and threw it with one swift movement, sinking into the middle of the soldier's forehead with unerring accuracy.

Both soldiers were dead before Thea even had the chance to breathe again.

Without wasting any time, Jim got to his feet and started patting down the first man he had killed. His blue eyes had taken on a grey tint; his movements were cold and calculating. It was as if this was an entirely different man before Thea, and honestly, it scared her shitless.

Jim had found an archaic gun on the man and made sure the safety was on before he tossed it into his backpack. He moved onto the other soldier. He yanked out his knife and wiped it on the man's clothes before shoving it back into its sheath. With callous movements, he quickly found another gun and added that to his collection. As a bonus, he also found a working communicator on the soldier, which he quickly cracked open. In seconds, he found the GPS tracker, tossed it out, snapped the communicator shut, and slid it into his pocket.

It was only then did he look up and see Thea staring at him in utter horror.

The coldness and darkness faded away from those blue eyes and his entire posture became softer. He stood slowly, raising his hands up in a surrendering motion, as if he was afraid that he was going to spook Thea like a deer.

It was that simple action of him worrying about scaring her that made her realize that the man in front of her now was not the same as the one from a few seconds ago. Whoever it was before was someone that had to do what was needed, no matter what. _That_ was the shadow of Tarsus IV, but this, _this_ was Jim. And she could trust Jim to protect her.

"Thea?" Jim asked cautiously. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, still trying to find her voice.

Jim reached forward, his hand taking hold of her bow and slowly took it from her as she relinquished her death grip on it. "It's okay. You don't need this anymore. It's okay."

"I know it's okay," she snapped back, anger suddenly taking hold of her. "Don't treat me like a child."

"I really wouldn't. You just saw me kill two men in cold blood and you still haven't run screaming from me." Pain marred his features. "I'm sorry you had to see me do that." He gestured almost helplessly to the men on the ground. "But I couldn't risk them seeing you and getting away to tell Greenaway or Wolff."

She shook her head. "It's fine."

Confusion crossed his expressions, making her roll her eyes. She let her delicate fingers brush against the small scratch on Jim's right arm. "You did it so I didn't have to. Thank you."

Jim shrugged it off like it was nothing. "I've got a lot of pent up anger. Just wait until I get my hands on Wolff."

He bent down and grabbed the arms of one of the soldiers and dragged his body towards the bushes. Jim took great lengths to cover the man up amongst the leaves, leaving no traces behind, and went on to do the same to the other one.

"Isn't Wolff or Greenaway going to know that you've been here once they realize that these soldiers are gone?" Thea asked.

"Nope. These men are just unimportant foot soldiers. They don't even have communicators on them. No one is going to notice that they're gone, at least not for a while. And by that time, we'll be prepared enough to make the first strike."

Thea frowned. "Okay, I believe that you're basically a ninja, but I give us at most two days before they figure out that you're sneaking around and they create a counterattack against you."

Jim flashed her a proud smile. "And this is where I get to show you how truly ingenious Chekov is. Come on, he is going to absolutely dazzle you."

* * *

><p>By the time they returned to the cave, Chekov had already fashioned a timer out of the broken communicators and fixed the other one to work, though it was barely functional. With what he had on hand to use, Chekov could only get the communicator to receive messages, but he couldn't send out any. And he did it all with an hour to spare, which he spent playing with the kids and telling them stories about their crazy adventures, filling their heads with Jim's and Sulu's ridiculous antics.<p>

Jim just grinned at Thea's incredulous expression at seeing how childish Chekov was, giggling with the rest of the kids, and at the same time, realizing that Chekov was far brighter than all of them combined (except Jim, though she had not yet discovered how ingenious Jim truly was. She definitely suspected though).

"He's just seventeen, right?" Thea whispered to Jim.

"He's actually closer to eighteen now. In a month, give or take," Jim replied proudly.

She smiled at him. "You make a great older brother, you know that?"

At that, Jim's face darkened a tad. "I wouldn't say that. If I was a good brother, I never would have brought him to into so much danger, and yet here he is." The cloud on his face cleared in a split second, covered by determination, as if he was solidifying his resolve once again. He stepped forward as he opened his backpack for Chekov.

"Chekov, we can't contact the _Enterprise _because of some sort of virus that Wolff left onboard. I brought back some stuff that might be able to help us bypass that if we connect the old-fashioned way and use radio signals."

"Vill the signals be strong enough to reach the _Enterprise,_ Keptin?" asked Chekov, already pulling out the circuit boards, wires, and whatever else Jim had in his backpack.

"We'll have to amplify it for sure. Think you can make an RF power amplifier out of this?"

Chekov frowned, thinking. "I do not know."

Jim squatted down and started shifting things around. "Making the amplifier should be fairly cut and dry – I made sure to get what we needed. The problem is going to be driving it to a high power source."

"The PADD may contain the power charge ve need for that!" exclaimed Chekov, already scrambling to grab it. He returned with the PADD in his hands. He was trying to split the PADD into two with his blunt nails even as he reached Jim, who just took out his boot knife and handed it to Chekov.

Chekov instantly got to work, tearing the PADD and rerouting certain wires to amplify its batteries, while Jim settled down beside him, building an RF power amplifier from scratch.

As they worked, Thea ushered her kids and brother towards the backend of the cave, shushing them as they attached to her like ducklings to their mother.

Liam nudged her. "What do you think about him?" he asked, nodding at Jim. "You think we made the right decision bringing him back here?"

Thea just smiled softly, combing her fingers through Daniel's hair comfortingly. "Yes."

In that instant, Liam saw his sister for who she was before Greenaway came rampaging through their village. The harshness and coldness of her eyes and features had softened, making her seem her age again. And she was smiling for the first time with no inhibition.

He hadn't realized how much he had missed his sister until now, and how relieved he was that she no longer shouldered the weight of the world on her shoulders. He had tried to do what he could to help her, but someone had to stay behind to protect the children while she went out to find them food. She would never have shared her burdens with him anyway – in her eyes, he was always going to be her little brother. She would always give her life to protect him, and even if he wanted to do the same for her, he had always felt powerless and helpless. Each day, he could see her fading away little by little, but nothing he said or did could bring her back.

And yet, a complete stranger did what he could not: Jim Kirk had brought back her smile.

It made Liam feel envious and irritated that he wasn't the one to do so, but he was far gladder than he was jealous.

Liam leaned over and kissed Thea at her temple, hugging her happily for a brief moment, before pulling back and looking at Jim again. "He seems like a good man," Liam said, a relieved smile on his face too.

Thea glanced up, watching every one of Jim's movements, and smiled brightly. "Yes, he is. I trust him. He will save all of you." Her eyes sparkled. "Just you watch."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued.<em>

* * *

><p>Hi all! So yeah...sorry, updates will still be slow, but we're getting into the good bits soon! I'm also working on <em>Ingenious Idiot<em> and as much as I have the ideas for it, I haven't had the time to write. Sorry. School comes first (seriously, crazy busy to the point where I barely have time to eat anymore). But I assure you guys that I'm working on both of these stories. I just have my head full of this story, so _Ingenious __Idiot _has kind of been on the backburner. Please don't be mad at me. I'm trying!

Thank you guys for reading this and sticking with me so long though. I appreciate all the kind words and reviews! You guys are the absolute best!

As always, thanks for reading and please review!

Cheers,

Yuna


	10. Chapter 10: Kings, Queens, and Pawns

**Chapter 10**

**Kings, Queens, and Pawns**

The thick, wooden door to the dungeons burst open with a loud thud, making all but Spock to flinch slightly. Uhura and Scotty both drew themselves up, sitting tall and proud for Sulu, McCoy, and Spock, whose backs were still torn open. Her dark brown eyes glittered angrily at the man who she recognized to be Zachariah Greenaway, the current Governor of Zenobia – the uncle of that bastard Wolff. She had no doubt that he had a role to play in all this, and her hatred for Wolff bled over to him.

Greenaway was followed closely by four soldiers who had their hands hovering over their guns that hung at their sides. He didn't seem to be that much of an impressive man. His features were average and his body language exuded nothing but pleasantry, but Uhura knew better. One could easily manipulate one's body to lure prey in. She had seen Kirk do the same every time he wanted something from someone, but with Kirk, at least he was doing it to protect his people. Greenaway, on the other hand, no doubt just wanted to see blood.

"Good afternoon," Greenaway greeted with a serene smile on his face.

Uhura cocked her head defiantly. "Is it," she replied, purposely phrasing her caustic and cold words as a sentence, not a question.

"Now, now, Miss Uhura. There's no need to be so hostile," Greenaway said, completely unfazed by the bloodthirsty aura she was emitting. "I am not my nephew. I am merely here to inquire about your health. Unlike Royce, I have much better manners when it comes to hospitality. It is cruel what he did to you all, and I am truly sorry on his behalf."

A flash of surprise crossed her face, but she recovered quickly and smothered her features with anger. "Don't give me that. If you were really sorry, we wouldn't be here."

"You have personally seen what my nephew can do. Do you really think that I have any power over him?" Greenaway's expression never wavered, maintaining the apologetic and sorrowful look. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like he was truly upset about what Wolff was doing.

Uhura's eyes shone with slight hope, which she immediately quashed. She tilted her head, quizzically, as she read Greenaway's body language. He was no doubt a smart man, but also shrewd. His eyes and expressions never gave away anything except genuine care; yet, no matter what he said or did, Uhura knew better. She had lived and followed Jim Kirk for years, seeing and learning all the minute details of body language and microexpressions that she had never known had existed. She may not be Jim Kirk, but she was still damn near good enough to do what most exceptional people couldn't do: take pride in herself as Captain Kirk's Communications Officer.

She shifted slightly, even as she read Greenaway's hidden perverse glee at seeing others suffer, and swept her hair back in one quick motion. "Prove that you're not Wolff," she said calmly, widening her eyes just a tad.

"What would you like me to do?" Greenaway replied, smiling kindly.

"Give us some medical supplies. Sulu, Spock, and McCoy need something or else infection is going to settle in."

"I'm sorry, I cannot give you anything. I have been warned by my nephew that you lot are the brightest in Starfleet. I have heard that Kirk can fashion a weapon out of a simple tricorder, not that I believe it quite yet, but I am also not naïve enough to underestimate you all."

Uhura bit her lower lip, her eyes flickering down in disappointment. Her long, delicate fingers picked at the hem of her short skirt on her upper thigh. "I knew it," she mumbled, looking away from Greenaway. She crumbled a little as the hope in her shoulders disappeared.

Greenaway swallowed hard at the sight at her bare legs, as did his two soldiers. They had heard the rumors that Kirk had a beauty with a talented tongue at his side. They had not believed it until now. And the fact that she seemed so willing to do anything to save her friends? Well, it would wrong of Greenaway if he did not take advantage of it.

Greenaway cleared his throat. "I cannot allow your friends to have access to medical supplies, but I can order my men to treat them instead."

Her head jerked up. Her eyes were wide. "Really?"

"But you have to do something for me."

"Anything!" Uhura readily agreed.

"Pick one of your friends to receive a 'special' treatment from my boys."

Instantly, she was on guard. "What sort of treatment?"

"The soldiers have been preparing for the arrival of your Captain and require a target to practice on."

Uhura's eyes widened as she understood the subtext of Greenaway's words. They basically wanted her to pick one of them to fulfill their sadistic urges. They wanted her to pick one of her family members to be a freaking piñata.

Like she ever could.

But if she didn't, there was a high chance that McCoy, Sulu, and Spock were going to get really, really sick if their wounds weren't treated. She had seen Kirk become septic from torture before, and she never wanted to see that again: to see others as broken as they were when Kirk was laying on what seemed to be his deathbed. She didn't think any of them could take something like that again.

She shifted, hugging herself tightly, subconsciously trying to protect herself from the harsh reality before her. Her thin arms wrapped around her chest, pushing out her breasts, as she tried to make herself smaller. "W-what? I couldn't possibly!"

"Do it, or I will pick for you, and you're not going to like who I choose." Greenaway's eyes roamed up and down Uhura's body, making her shiver with disgust. He grinned at her obvious discomfort and nodded at his two soldiers, who both glanced at her suggestively.

This did not go unnoticed. Instantly, Sulu, McCoy, Scotty, and even Spock rose in anger, but they were quickly overshadowed by one Scottish man.

"Ye yellow-bellied bastard! Ye wanna pick on someone, yer welcome ta start with me! I cannae wait ta git my hands on you!" Scotty shouted loudly. "Yer worth absolutely nothin', Greenaway. I ain't afraid of someone like you who rides on the coat-tails of his wanker nephew."

It was exactly the wrong and right button to push. In that instant, there was real and true anger on Greenaway's face, unmarred by any manipulation or deception. He pointed his finger at Scotty. "Sorry, girl. It looks like your choice has been made for you." He snapped at his people. "Get him up and bring him to me."

"No! Don't!" Uhura cried, rising to her feet and rushing to stop just centimeters before the bars.

One of the soldiers moved towards a metal box on at the far end of the dungeon – near the entrance and away from Uhura and the others. He inserted a key and opened it, revealing a row of switches – one for each of the cells – and flipped the one switch that turned off the electricity to Scotty's.

The other unlocked Scotty's cell and reached in to roughly grab him, but the Engineer was ready for him. The moment the soldier stepped into his prison, Scotty launched himself forward, snarling like a feral tiger. His hands punched and scratched wherever he could reach, but unlike the rest of the Command crew, he was the only one who hadn't trained in hand-to-hand combat, and it was obvious. His movements were uncoordinated and most of the time, he barely made contact with the soldier.

Within seconds of Scotty attacking the soldier, he was quickly subdued and thrown to the ground where he curled up like an armadillo. The soldier was instantly on him, kicking harshly wherever he could hit, which was everywhere.

The sounds of Scotty's pained grunts echoed excruciatingly in the Command crew's ears. It was even more painful to just sit there in their respective cells, completely helpless and useless. Greenaway revealed in their defeated expressions. A broad and satisfied grin settled on his face, and it just made Sulu, McCoy, and Spock loathe him even more for it.

Uhura moved closer to the bars, her eyes welling with tears. "Please! Stop it! You're going to kill him!" she cried. "Please! I'll do anything!"

Greenaway raised a hand and the soldier stopped kicking Scotty for a brief moment. He raised an eyebrow. "Anything?" His eyes roamed over her body suggestively.

She shuddered, knowing exactly what he wanted, and hesitated. "I…I can't…" she stuttered.

Greenaway shrugged his shoulders. "Pity." He turned back to his soldier. "Continue."

He resumed kicking; this time with more fervor.

"No!" Uhura screamed and in her anger, fear, and worry, made the mistake of getting too close to her bars. She let out a cry as the electricity buzzed and fell backwards, collapsing on the ground, unconscious.

McCoy, Sulu, and Spock all called out for her, terrified at seeing her unmoving on that cold, unforgiving stone floor.

Greenaway sighed and nodded at the other soldier. "Make sure her heart is still beating. Wolff would not be pleased if we killed them this early in the game."

The soldier nodded and flipped the switch to Uhura's cell. After unlocking it, he stepped in and bent down next to her, purposely putting his hand on her chest to check. "She's alive," he reported to Greenaway.

"Wake her up. I don't want her to miss anything."

The soldier slapped her cheek a few times. By the third slap, Uhura's eyes were fluttering open. By the fourth, she was fully roused, but the soldier slapped her a fifth time, just for the fun of it.

"Bastard, leave her alone!" yelled out McCoy.

"I would like to see you make me," Greenaway smirked, but it slid off his face in a flash when another soldier came running into the dungeons.

"Sir!" the soldier rushed out.

"I thought I told you that I was _not _to be disturbed!" Greenaway shouted, his face flushing with anger.

"Two bodies were found on the perimeters of the castle. Captain Wolff wants to speak with you. Now."

Greenaway pinched his nose to compose himself, his mood shifting from anger to resignation in a second. "Fine." He turned to his soldiers. "Pack up. We'll visit another time." He smiled lewdly at Uhura. "Consider yourselves lucky for today."

The soldiers locked up properly and turned the electricity back on and left without much fanfare, leaving Uhura supine in her cell, Scotty rolled up in fetal position, and McCoy, Sulu, and Spock absolutely seething, but they didn't remain so still for long.

When they were sure that they had been left entirely on their own, Uhura sat up quickly, as did Scotty. There was a glint in Uhura's eyes and all her confidence was back in her body language.

"You alright there, Scotty?" she asked.

Scotty gave her a grin. There were a few bruises already darkening on his face, but it looked like it didn't even phase him. "Betta than alrite," he replied, raising his right hand to show the communicator that he had stolen from the soldier.

She smirked, raising her own hand to reveal a second communicator in her hand. "Same here."

"You are a phenomenal actress, bonnie," Scotty congratulated. "Honestly, I was all caught up in yer actin'. If I dinnae know what you were doing, I really woulda thought tha you were about ta break."

Sulu nodded in agreement. "Seriously. I thought my heart was going to stop when you pulled the whole getting shocked thing. How did you even manage that? You can't have really knocked yourself out, otherwise, how else did you manage to get the communicator off the guy?"

Uhura pointed at her boots. "Starfleet standard, remember? Repels electricity enough to prevent getting electrocuted. All I did was kick at the bar a little to make it seem like I touched it. Was fully awake for the whole thing. Slipped off the communicator somewhere between the first and second slap." She shuddered at the memory of the man touching her. "Ugh. I'm going to need a nice, long shower after this. I feel disgusting."

"Greenaway is a bipolar, perverted bastard," Sulu concurred with anger laced in his words. "He's going to get what's coming to him."

McCoy looked over at Uhura with a tinge of sorrow and apology in his eyes. "You didn't have to do that, you know? You didn't have to go as far as to use yourself to tempt the soldier into your cell. Spock, Sulu, and I would have been perfectly willing to do the same as Scotty."

Uhura shook her head adamantly. "You guys are already injured. Kirk would never have forgiven me if I let you guys get hurt more."

"He's never going to forgive _us_ if something happens to _you_," McCoy shot back. "Hell, _we_ would never have forgiven ourselves if something happened to you."

"What about Scotty? He got himself all beat up to get that communicator!"

"That's a different story. I know for a fact that Kirk's been teaching Scotty how to get beat up properly," Sulu said.

Uhura frowned, confused. "That's a thing?"

Scotty filled her in. "Just like Jim's been teachin' Chekov how to fight, he taught me how to protect meself when I'm under attack. Ah have some bruises, yes, but it ain't anything bad. Nothin' vital was hit."

Sulu snorted at the recollection of Scotty's feeble attempt at attacking the soldier. "I think Kirk should have taught you how to fight instead of defending yourself. Were you actually trying your hardest to attack that soldier?"

Scotty sniffed. "It was enuff to distract him enough to get this communicator."

"You got your ass handed to you, Scotty," Sulu chuckled.

"Ah _pretended _to have my arse handed to me. Just like bonnie over there pretended to be weak and vulnerable to seduce the soldier."

"It's what Kirk would have done," Uhura said softly.

"That is certainly true," Spock commented. "I have witnessed Jim purposely antagonize others into attacking him for an alternative purpose countless times."

"And Jim uses those blue eyes of his all the time to seduce anyone if it'll get him what he wants," McCoy added. "Congratulations, everyone. We're as crazy as Jim now."

Sulu grinned. "Awesome."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "You _would_ be the only one to think so. I swear, you and that genius teenager of yours are _awful_ influences on him. You should _not _be enabling his crazy."

"It's more like Kirk is an _awesome_ influence on us," Sulu shot back.

"I give up. You're doomed," McCoy said, but he was laughing.

Spock spoke over McCoy's low chuckling. "Mr. Scott, will you need assistance in configuring that communicator?"

Scotty looked up from the communicator that he had already broken apart while they were speaking. "Nah, I think I can make somethin' outta this that'll overload the fuses to our cells. It might take some time though."

Spock nodded. "Mr. Sulu, you informed us that you are capable of picking locks?"

"Yeah," Sulu replied. "Kirk spent an entire afternoon teaching me. I'm a bit rusty, but I'll be ready as soon as Scotty is."

"How the hell did Jim have the time to teach you that?" McCoy wondered out loud, but no one had the answer to that.

"Nyota, are you able to enhance the communicator in your hands to contact the _Enterprise_?"

Uhura shook her head. "No. Besides, didn't Wolff say that he encrypted a virus onboard? I'm not Kirk, and even if I was, I doubt he'd be able to override that program with a communicator alone. But I can modify it a bit to capture all signals coming out of the castle and monitor all communications. Rule number thirty-one: knowledge is power. Maybe they'll say something that we can use to our advantage."

McCoy nodded. "Did you hear what Greenaway said? He said that Wolff wouldn't be happy if we were killed so early in the game. That means Greenaway isn't in charge, and he doesn't seem pleased about it. You think we can use that?"

"It is possible," Spock replied. "However, we will require more information. For now, it seems that Jim has started to make his move. He would not have left the soldiers out in the open unless he wanted to announce his presence on the planet to Wolff. We will need to escape quickly."

"Give me a day and ah'll have this baby amped up ta take anything," Scotty said.

"Let's just hope we have a day," McCoy grouched. "Jim's an impatient idiot."

Sulu shook his head. "Kirk may be impatient, but he isn't stupid. He'll be taking his time because he can't afford any mistakes. I can bet you that Scotty will have his 24 hours, barring any unforeseen circumstances, of course."

"It's a sad day when we can understand Jim's mindset, isn't it?"

Spock just glanced over at McCoy. "That is incorrect, Doctor. It is a desperate day when we must resort to Jim's methods, for only Jim is capable of emerging victorious from no-win scenarios."

Sulu gave McCoy a lazy smile. "If you ever find yourself panicking, just think 'what would Kirk do'? He'd say something like panicking is for morons who don't have an ounce of intelligence in them. He'd channel that energy into doing something productive, like figuring how to goad or seduce the soldiers so that he can steal communicators. Most importantly, he'd never stop believing in himself that he'll get himself out, so relax, McCoy. Rest up, because you'll need your energy when we break out of here and fight our way back to Kirk."

"You're a strangely optimistic man, aren't you, Sulu?" McCoy muttered. "You're still bleeding all over the floor, you know."

Sulu shrugged. "I believe in Kirk and he believes in us, so yeah, I guess you can call me optimistic."

McCoy huffed and did as he was told for once. He relaxed back on the floor, lying on his stomach to avoid aggravating his wounds. He watched Scotty work furiously on the communicator, already tuning out the world, Spock go back into a healing trance (his wounds were already closed, though it would take medical intervention to get rid of those scars completely, but he was still weakened from the ordeal), and Uhura tinkering with her own communicator. He listened to Sulu humming whimsically and tunelessly and closed his eyes, trying to fight down the fear and worry he had for his best friend, but at the same time, he could see where Sulu was coming from.

He had faith in Jim. He had absolutely no doubt that Jim was going to save them and he had no doubt that between Spock, Scotty, and Uhura, they would find a way to break out of their cells, but there was a heavy stone in his stomach, and he couldn't define it. Was it worry or ominous foreboding? Or maybe it was just McCoy feeling useless that his skillset was completely irrelevant until they escaped. What could he do to help out?

No. It wasn't what _he_ could do. Sulu was right. Their whole plan hinged on luck and brilliance that could only be seen outside of the box.

The one thing that could save all of them now was: what would Jim do?

Wolff may think that all of Jim's key chess pieces were captured, but not for long. A mere prison was never enough to hold Jim down for more than a day or two, unless he chose to stay. It was going to be the same for them.

Jim was going to have to get in line if he wanted to get his hands on Wolff. Between the five people who knew Jim inside and out, there was no way that these cells could hold them for long, and when they got out, they were going to stick Wolff's head on a pike.

* * *

><p>"What do you want, Royce?" snapped Greenaway as he stormed into one of rooms adjacent to the throne room. "I was busy."<p>

Wolff was barely phased by his uncle's anger. He just nodded at Greenaway, acknowledging his presence, but continued to listen to the report of his soldier.

"And you're sure that all Kirk managed to get from our men was a single communicator and a couple of guns?" Wolff asked.

The soldier nodded.

"Thank you. You may go."

When the soldier left, Wolff finally turned to his seething uncle. "Uncle, I apologize for cutting into your playtime, but I have something important to discuss with you."

"I take it Kirk is alive and well. Are you happy now? We have yet to get the Goddess' power and Kirk's already making his move! This is unacceptable, Royce! I did not come this far just to have your stupidity and desire to toy around with Kirk destroy it all!"

Wolff calmly considered his uncle, remaining seated at the table. Despite the blood relationship, Wolff was not one to lose his head, no matter the situation, but if there was anything that he did not stand for, it was disrespect, even from his uncle. "Do not forget who put you on your throne, Uncle," he said slowly. There was a warning edge to his words.

But Greenaway was undaunted. Greenaway leaned forward, pressing his hand on the table and leaning forward to encroach into Wolff's personal space. "You may have put me here, Royce, but I have kept it for all these years while you groveled like a dog around Starfleet. Do _not_ speak down to me like one of your peons. Do _not_ think for a _second_ that you are in charge here."

Wolff stood, his eyes narrowed. "Do you truly believe that you would have gotten this far without me? When I put you on the throne four years ago, I incorporated myself into Starfleet to gain access and trust of those who essentially ruled this side of the universe. My presence in Starfleet kept a blind eye on Zenobia and all the shit that you have pulled since your term started. If I hadn't filtered through all the messages sent from Zenobia to the Federation, they would have been here in a heartbeat. So do not demean _my_ role in all this. Without me, you _never _would have gotten this far Uncle."

Wolff crossed his arms. "I was the one to eliminate all the potential threats to our plans. And that included Kirk. I have done what is asked of me thus far and more. We are at the cusp of everything we have ever wanted, and yet, you're here throwing a tantrum. I ask you, Uncle, is that truly a good use of our time?"

"Is taunting Kirk a good use of _your_ time?" Greenaway shot back.

"This is chess, Uncle. It may seem like taunting to you, but I assure you, there is an endpoint to my games with him."

"Is that all you want? To bring Kirk down? Because, at this moment, that's what it seems like."

"And what is it that you desire, Uncle? Surely, you cannot be content with control of Zenobia alone, because _that_ is all that _I _can see right now."

"You know my ambitions expand farther than that, Royce, but neither of our goals will be achieved without the Goddess' power."

"Speaking of, I think I have the answer to why she won't show up." Wolff picked up the PADD that was lying on the table and raised it. He flicked a file open. "One of the monitors caught a few seconds of Kirk before he walked off screen."

"And I care about that why?"

"I think you're going to be interested in the girl that was with him."

The recording wasn't very clear – it was to be expected with technology that hadn't been updated for years – but Greenaway could easily make out Kirk walking through the woods, his eyes darting around to catch any potential threats. He was wearing the same clothes as he had on when he was captured – black Starfleet standard – and he walked with confidence, brimming with adrenaline, but Greenaway wasn't interested in Kirk. He was drawn to the young girl that traveled beside Kirk.

She was shorter than Kirk by at least five inches, but she stood tall and proud, like the man beside her. She was wearing an olive green light jacket over a tight black shirt and black jeans. On her back was a cache of arrows and a bow; her black hair was tied in a ponytail and swished as she walked on. There was a small smile on her pretty face as she talked with Kirk. Her black-brown eyes roamed and unknowingly, slowly made contact with the camera.

There was such strength behind those irises. It was deep like the universe, never-ending and always shining. It spoke of the ability to see the worst of mankind and still remain unbroken. There was hope, despite the world falling apart. And it ate at the remnants of Greenaway's soul, taking him and throwing him further and further into the abyss.

He felt an unspeakable urge to gouge those eyes out – a desperate need eviscerate the light in her eyes. He couldn't survive in the light. He, like Wolff, had grown accustomed to the shadows. He had to get rid of her, if only to preserve his own survival in the dark.

Greenaway leaned forward, touching the screen to pause the image on her. "She's the reason why the Goddess won't show…" he breathed. The Goddess only showed when everything seemed lost and all that was left was despair and sorrow. While this girl was alive and wandering the woods whole, there was still hope, and that was simply unacceptable. "She must be eliminated. Now."

"Our sources say that she has hidden some children away as well. I think the Goddess hasn't appeared because there are still kids free. If we get the girl, we get the rest of those kids, and then the Goddess will _have_ to step in."

"She could be anywhere at this juncture. How are we to find her?"

"Kirk stole a communicator off one of the soldiers. I have no doubt that he tore out the GPS tracker in it, but he should be monitoring all communications on our feed. We can use that to lure him out."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"Tell me what you did with Kirk's people."

Greenaway gave Wolff a confused look, and Wolff rolled his eyes in response.

"I'm not interested in your tastes, Uncle. I need to know to draw Kirk out. Who did you target the most? Was it Doctor McCoy or Commander Spock?"

"It was the woman." Greenaway smirked. "Those tears of hers are just absolutely delicious."

Wolff grinned back, pulling out his communicator. "Perfect. Tell me all about it."

* * *

><p>Thea woke to the feel of someone holding her hand, their thumb making these comforting circles. A small part of her wanted to smile at the sensation – it was a habit that her brother had picked up almost half a year ago, and they both had found comfort in his actions. Even now, when she found herself sleeping on the stone cold ground, it made her feel warm, safe, and loved, despite where they were at the moment. And despite the headache that had been coming and going for weeks now.<p>

Sensing her waking, Liam squeezed her hand briefly as reassurance before letting go, almost reluctantly, so that she could get up. Blearily, she rubbed her eyes as she sat up, pushing the sensation of her headache to the back of her mind where she resolutely ignored it. She felt a weight fall on her lap once she did. Frowning in confusion, she glanced down to see a black leather jacket, far too big to have belonged to any of her kids, lying on her upper thighs.

"Kirk lent it to you sometime during the night. Had it in that backpack of his," Liam said softly as an explanation. "He also had some rations in his bag that he passed out to all of us. He didn't want to wake you, but I'm pretty sure I saw him set one aside for you."

She craned her neck and saw Jim and Chekov near the mouth of the cave, tinkering with the electronics in their hands, completely oblivious to the eyes that watched them from the back of the cave. Both had begun to mutter in Russian to each other, obviously bouncing ideas off each other as they worked.

It was almost fun to watch their fingers flit across the circuit boards and see the sparks fly. Chekov had modified the circuit board so that its origin was almost unrecognizable; Jim, on the other hand, was fixing up something smaller that was about the size of a communicator. It seemed that he had made it completely out of scraps from Chekov's byproducts. Jim really hadn't exaggerated: their caliber of genius was something that people couldn't even begin to think to touch.

"They worked through the night," Liam commented, admiration evident on his face.

Thea looked at him. He had a boyish expression that made him seem like the young teenager he was. His eyes were following everything that Jim and Chekov were doing, soaking in their actions like a sponge. Thea wasn't surprised. He had always had a talent when it came to electronics and math. His grades in school were outstanding and he was in the gifted program before Greenaway ruined everything. If there was anything Thea regretted, her brother missing the chance to take the world by the ropes and wasting his life away in this cave, but there was still hope for him. And that hope was sitting at the mouth of the cave with bright blue eyes.

Jim muttered something to Chekov, making the teenager nod quickly and twist something onto the circuit board. The two of them were so concentrated that they both jolted when the communicator that Jim had left sitting by his side rang and a familiar, hated voice came through.

"_Kirk, are you there?" _Wolff's voice echoed against the walls of the cave. Luckily, the other children remained fast asleep, huddled in the back besides Thea like newborn puppies. They had a blanket covering them, no doubt pulled from Jim's backpack as well, but Thea was too distracted by Wolff to really take a note of it. She and Liam froze with fear. Had they been discovered?

Jim, on the other hand, straightened as if his spine was made out of steel. Though there was no outside semblance of anger, Chekov noticed a greyish tint enter Jim's normally bright, blue eyes. Jim didn't make a move to grab the communicator to respond, but his eyes were glued on it, as if he could set it on fire by glaring at it.

Wolff continued to talk, despite not being sure if Jim was even listening. _"I know you're out there and I know you've stolen a communicator off one of my men. You can hear me, Kirk. I know you can."_

Jim still didn't answer and just sat unmoving with his hands clenched in his lap.

Wolff's tone changed and became full of glee. _"Who's the girl that you have wandering the woods with you?"_

Instantly, Jim shot a look at Thea, worry deep in his eyes, but only for a second. His attention was immediately back onto the communicator, knowing full well that Wolff was far from done.

"_I thought you were a gentlemen. I can't believe that you'd let a beautiful girl like her stay with someone as dangerous as you. She will go through such harsh hardships by your side. Just ask your crew. Why, my uncle just informed me that Uhura was even willing to give up her body to stop the beating of your Engineer."_

What the hell did Greenaway do to Uhura and Scotty? How _dare_ he touch Uhura and hurt Scotty? Jim just couldn't let that pass. He snatched up the communicator in a second, his finger pressing the button so harshly that he almost cracked it. His snarled response was dripping with anger.

"Wolff, you're going to live to regret touching my crew. Oh wait. No, you won't, because I am going to_ rip your fucking head off_."

Wolff just laughed. _"What are you going to do, Kirk? This is chess, and I'm winning. I've got your bishops, knights, and rooks captured in my dungeons, rotting away. All your pawns are stuck in the sky, unable to go anywhere. All you have left in your hand is yourself: the queen. What can you possibly do?"_

Jim grinned mirthlessly. "I thought you said that you weren't going to underestimate me, Wolff."

"_I won't underestimate you. Let me make you a deal, Kirk. My uncle has a personal interest in that girl that you have with you. Why don't we do a pawn promotion? You give me the girl, and in exchange, I'll return one of your pieces to you."_

"First of all, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. What girl?" but even as Jim spoke, his eyes connected to Thea, scanning her for any signs of fear. There was none, just sheer defiance, and Jim felt a surge of pride rush through him. It must've showed on his face because she actually smiled shyly at him.

"_Oh, Kirk, at least give me the same courtesy as I give you. Do not insult my intelligence."_

"You do you, Wolff. Believe what you want. Secondly, chess games can be won with simply a queen and a pawn, and you know it. You keep saying that you won't underestimate me, but I somehow doubt that. Good luck, Wolff. The next time I see you, it'll be the last thing you ever see. And to my crew, in case they're around you, you sadistic jackass, don't do anything stupid, got it? I'm coming for you." He switched to Vulcan, shoving in as much derision and sarcasm as possible within that structured language. _"__Live long and be prosperous_, you bastard," he finished in Standard. Hopefully, his crew would get the hint.

He slammed his hand against the communicator, hanging up on Wolff.

He glanced up at Chekov who had kept quiet through the entirety of the conversation. "You about done with that amplifier there, Chekov?" he asked, his voice hard with lingering anger. "We're speeding up our timetable."

Chekov just looked at Jim, raising an eyebrow. "Keptin, are you sure that is vise?"

"You channeling Spock there, Chekov?"

"Are you channeling Dr. McCoy, sir? You do not usually let your emotions make your decisions for you."

"He touched Uhura!"

"And ve vill make him pay, but as you have said, ve have a mission to do. You cannot let your emotions rule you. Calm, Keptin. Do not get impatient. Ve vill save everyone, I promise."

Chekov's warm smile was contagious and Jim felt his anger subside quickly, like it had been doused with water. He never could argue against logic. It was why Spock won their arguments almost all the time. He gave Chekov a small smile. "When did you become the voice of reason?" he asked.

Chekov shrugged. "Someone has to be."

Jim ruffled Chekov's hair proudly. "I'm glad I have you with me, kid."

"You can't win against Wolff and Greenaway with just the two of you, Jim. You should know that," Thea said, getting up and approaching them. Liam followed her like a shadow.

"You're very pessimistic, has anyone ever told you that, Thea?" Jim quipped.

She crossed her arms, unamused. "I'm a realist. Now, clearly, you and Wolff are playing a game of chess. He's right, you know. You can't win if you're the only piece on the board."

"I'm not. If that was the case, you would be right, but you can win a game with just a queen and a pawn. I wasn't lying about that. It's difficult, but not impossible."

"Volff won't give in so easily. He knows not to underestimate you, Keptin," Chekov said.

"Ah, but that's what I'm counting on."

Chekov was not the only one that was confused.

Thea frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You see, it's not me that he's underestimating. He keeps thinking that I'm the queen in this game, but Chekov here is my queen."

Chekov instantly blushed. "Keptin!" he said out in protest.

Jim chuckled before growing more somber. "Look, Wolff isn't someone I can underestimate either. He has won every time thus far and has been one step ahead of me since the very beginning, but the fact that Wolff doesn't know about all the cards I hold in my hand is that paper-thin advantage that will allow me to win in the end."

"Fine, if Chekov here is your queen, what are you then?" asked Thea, honestly curious.

Jim stood, not meeting anyone's eye. "I'm just a pawn in this game," he replied as he patted the dust off his black pants.

His words were aloof and it made Chekov extremely nervous. There was something deeper behind that; Jim sounded deprecating and yet, at the same time, nonchalant. Chekov recognized that tone. He couldn't place it, but he knew that he had to be cautious. God knew how many demons Jim had hidden under that cocky smile of his, and he fought with them every day. With all that was going on, it seemed like Jim was having a harder and harder time pushing them back. His smiles were becoming strained, his words clipped. Though he never outright showed his restlessness and anxiousness, if Chekov could see the cracks in Jim's mask, then that couldn't mean anything good. And since Dr. McCoy wasn't here, Chekov had to make sure Jim was alright, physically and mentally, in place of the doctor.

Thea just smiled, not even noticing the red-flag waving in front of her face. She wasn't to blame though. Jim could fool his own reflection and she had already fallen under her spell. She would never be able to see any of Jim's weaknesses or vulnerabilities, if only because Jim would never let her see them.

Thea placed her hands on her hips. "You, the narcissistic peacock, are just a pawn? I don't believe it. I thought you would have claimed to be King or something."

Jim laughed, "I have my moments."

But Chekov knew better. Jim would never be King. He could never let others sacrifice themselves for him; that was obvious from the very first day he stepped onto the Bridge as Captain. Hell, that was obvious from the very first time he walked onto the _Enterprise_ as a stowaway Cadet. He could never be the weakest piece on the board either. He would be on the front lines, just ready to throw away himself to make way for the other pieces to break through and reach victory. No, Jim truly believed that he was a pawn. But to Chekov, Jim was his King, and if he was the Queen in this game, then he was sure as hell going to protect the one piece that he and all the others had gathered onto the board for.

Chekov glanced down at the amplifier in his lap and made one last tweak. He had meant to wait before telling Jim that he had finished; he wanted to test and make sure that he had made no mistakes, but now was not the time to lack confidence in himself. Jim wanted to speed up their schedule; Chekov would oblige, if only to give Jim a peace of mind a moment earlier.

"Keptin, the amplifier is ready."

Jim turned and flashed Chekov a proud smile. "Perfect. I'm about done on my end," he said. He slipped the electronic he was working on into his pocket. "You ready to get this show on the road, Chekov?"

"Yes, sir!"

"And Thea, Liam, you ready to get your life back?"

Thea reached over and held Liam's hand. "He is," she grinned back.

"Done deal." Jim reached down and shouldered his backpack. As he straightened, he patted Chekov on the shoulder. "Hang on to that," he nodded to Chekov's amplifier. "We'll use it soon."

He turned to Thea. "You guys stay here for now. I'm going to show Chekov the castle. We shouldn't be long, but since Wolff knows about you, I need you to stay low for a bit, Thea. Don't leave this cave for a second, alright?"

Thea nodded. "How did he find out about me? I was careful to avoid being seen."

Jim shrugged. "There must've been some sort of surveillance still operational."

"You think they know where we're hiding? Are my kids in danger?"

"No, if they knew we were here, they would've stormed it ages ago. It'll be fine, Thea. I'll keep your kids safe. Just stay in this cave until we get back, okay?"

"Alright," Thea agreed. "Be safe, you two, and may the Goddess watch over you."

Jim just nodded tersely as a response and patted Chekov on the shoulder. They both silently exited the cave and disappeared out of view.

Everything was going according to plan and Jim was right on point, time-wise. For a brief second, Jim thought that he would actually succeed without losing anything, but he should've known better. It was any Kirk's fate: death, blood, and destruction followed Kirks wherever they went, leaving behind a wake of loss and sorrow.

He really should've known better. If he had, then perhaps things wouldn't have turned out the way they did: broken.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>Um...I'm still alive? Sorry I haven't been updating either of my stories. I have been writing, but at one point, I had some personal issues I was going through and I ended up taking a break from everything for a bit and literally didn't write more than like two sentences per each time I sat down to write. But I'm back now and I am super close to posting up the next chapter for <em>Ingenious Idiot <em>and I almost done with the next chapter of this story. Hopefully, cuz I'm back in school, I'll find more time to write more and faster. So I'm sorry again for not posting as often as I should and thank you all for all the encouraging words and support! I do read all your reviews and they warm the cockles of my heart. :)

Love you all! Thank you!

Cheers,

Kanae Yuna


	11. Chapter 11: Shattered

**Chapter 11**

**Shattered**

Uhura was humming quietly to herself as Scotty worked in his cell. As far as she could tell, Sulu, McCoy, and Spock were resting (not quite asleep, but at least relaxing as much as they could), which she was honestly quite relieved for. She was pretty sure that Sulu was getting an infection. His face was taking on a red tinge and his breathing was growing heavier and heavier by the hour, but she couldn't be sure if it was a fever or from the pain. She couldn't exactly reach on over and touch his forehead, and she was sure that if she asked if he was alright, she was just get a Kirk-ish answer of "I'm fine. You?"

She hadn't heard much from McCoy or Spock since Scotty got his hands on the communicator, even though Spock had kept a watchful eye on Scotty's work before he drifted off into another healing trance. McCoy, she suspected, didn't speak because of his gut-wrenching worry for Jim and was probably silently trying to reassure himself.

While she could understand where McCoy was coming, she had faith in Kirk that everything was going to be fine. All of them were going to escape and go home together. It was the Kirk factor – the only solution to this apparent no-win scenario, so McCoy's concern almost seemed over the top. At the same time, she also had a feeling that there was something else that McCoy wasn't telling them. She had no idea as to what though. But then and again, McCoy had been with Kirk for so much longer than they had. The two were literally inseparable and if anyone was going to know what posed as the most risk to Kirk, it would be McCoy.

She opened her mouth to ask him – it wasn't like they were going anywhere anytime soon and they had to be prepared for anything, especially when it came to Kirk – but she was distracted by the communicator she had in her lap come crackling to life.

Instantly, they all snapped to attention; even Scotty's hands came to an idle rest as Wolff's voice suddenly flittered through.

"_Kirk, are you there?"_ There was a pause. "_I know you're out there and I know you've stolen a communicator off one of my men. You can hear me, Kirk. I know you can."_

They held their breath, hoping that Jim wouldn't rise to the bait and would stay hidden and safe. Thankfully, there was no answer from Jim.

Wolff continued in a gleeful tone. _"Who's the girl that you have wandering the woods with you? I thought you were a gentlemen. I can't believe that you'd let a beautiful girl like her stay with someone as dangerous as you. She will go through such harsh hardships by your side. Just ask your crew. Why, my uncle just informed me that Uhura was even willing to give up her body to stop the beating of your Engineer."_

At first, they were confused about what Wolff was talking about. Girl? What girl? And then, they closed their eyes in defeat, knowing that Wolff had pushed the right pressure points. Jim, despite how womanizing he was, had always respected women and had proven over and over again that he did not take mistreatment of women well, particularly if that woman was Uhura. She was like his sister to him, and he was the sort of brother who punched first and asked questions later.

Jim's snarled response was dripping with anger. _"Wolff, you're going to live to regret touching my crew. Oh wait. No, you won't, because I am going to _rip your fucking head off."

Wolff just laughed. _"What are you going to do, Kirk? This is chess, and I'm winning. I've got your bishops, knights, and rooks in my dungeons, rotting away. All your pawns are stuck in the sky, unable to go anyway. All you have left in your hand is yourself: the queen. What can you possibly do?"_

"_I thought you said that you weren't going to underestimate me, Wolff."_

"_I won't. Let me make you a deal, Kirk. My uncle has personal interest in that girl that you have with you. Why don't we do a pawn promotion? You give me the girl, and in exchange, I'll return one of your pieces to you."_

"_First of all, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. What girl?"_

"_Oh, Kirk, at least give me the same courtesy as I give you. Do not insult my intelligence."_

"_You do you, Wolff. Believe what you want. Secondly, chess games can be won with simply a queen and a pawn, and you know it. You keep saying that you won't underestimate me, but I somehow doubt that. Good luck, Wolff. The next time I see you, it'll be the last thing you ever see. And to my crew, in case they're around you, you sadistic jackass, don't do anything stupid, got it? I'm coming for you."_ He switched to Vulcan. _"_Live long and be prosperous, _you bastard_," he finished in Standard.

Uhura shot a look at Spock as Kirk hung up and silence reigned. "Did you hear that, Spock? He said the phrase wrong!"

Spock inclined his head. "Yes, but Jim has impeccable fluency in Vulcan. It is highly unlikely that he would have mispronounced that statement unless there was a reason for it."

"Wha did Jim say specifically?" asked Scotty.

Uhura tapped her fingers. "He added a word. Instead of 'live long and prosper', he said 'live long and _be_ prosperous'. Any idea what that could mean?"

"It means that we have one day to prepare ourselves," McCoy said from where he was sitting. His arms were crossed and he was frowning. "Using one extra word means one day."

"How do you know that?" Sulu asked. "Why not one hour?"

"One hour would be one extra syllable. Days are words."

"How do you know this, Doctor?" Spock questioned.

"It's something that Jim made up after I found out that he was James Bond, doing stupid shit under Komack. Before I got clearance, Jim would leave me little messages to let me know when he was coming back. It's simple and virtually undetectable unless you knew what you were looking for." McCoy turned and looked at them with an unreadable expression in his eyes. It was quite reminiscent of Jim when he was preparing for shit to go down. "The point is: we have one day to get ourselves out before Jim storms this castle for us."

"About that, you're not telling us something, Leonard," Uhura said, crossing her arms. "We're all worried about Kirk and we don't want him getting hurt, but you're acting like this is the end of the world. What's going on, Leonard?"

McCoy sighed. "You all know of Jim's past, and though he may seem normal and happy-go-lucky for the majority of the time, you guys don't see the scars from Tarsus that are _always_ festering. And honestly, this whole thing is probably cutting a bit too close to home. I can fix open wounds and broken bones. But I can't fix what I can't see. I mean, you've all seen those moments when Jim didn't seem like Jim."

They all thought back to those times when they felt a shiver of fear run down their spine at the sight of that greyish tint in their friend's eyes. The way he held himself then and the way he spoke – it was as if there was another person before them. There was something hidden deep within Jim – something that they had only ever seen flickers of – but it was still able to incur such bone-chilling awe.

"Jim told me once that he was afraid of turning into a monster again. He said 'again'," McCoy said softly and sadly. "Because he's already seen that side of himself that would do _anything_ to protect what he holds dear. He _was_ that when he was on Tarsus IV. He's spent years trying to run from that darkness. And he succeeded, until he met us. He didn't have anyone to care about until us, and add on to the fact that what Wolff is doing is eerily similar to that of Tarsus? I think Jim might break after all the adrenaline has worn off. I'm a doctor, but even I'm not equipped to save Jim Kirk from himself."

Jim breaking was something that could never happen. They had all known about Jim's past and how many times he had broken, but only Spock knew just how much Jim had shattered. Spock had seen Jim's memories, and it nearly destroyed _him_, even though he had no doubt that what he saw was only a fraction of Jim's true pain and loss.

Humans were truly remarkable, to be able to pick themselves up even when everything seemed to be lost – Jim was the testimony to that – but even humans had their limits. Even James T. Kirk had a breaking point. Jim had already defied the impossible, getting back up each time he was knocked down. He had survived when all odds were against him and painstakingly put himself back together. He was strong, yet fragile at the same time.

Spock had seen the signs of it for a while now – since that mission with the wisps and Jim's attempts to pull away from them. Far before this all happened, before Wolff came and Dreyes murdered, Jim was already breaking. The toll of people that he cared about dying under his command, his incessant need to protect, and the constant fight to prove that he belonged on the _Enterprise_ – that he was more than just PR stunt, that he was more than his father's ghost – it was weighing Jim down.

Spock just knew that if Jim lost this battle with Wolff, he would shatter, and not even McCoy would be able to glue Jim back together. And he could not let that happen.

"Doctor, what can we do to help?" Spock asked.

McCoy just shook his head. "Other than breaking out and getting to Jim before something happens, there's nothing else that we can do."

Scotty rolled up his sleeve. "Then what are we waiting for? Spock, I need yer opinion on this."

Spock listened intently at Scotty's words, adding input where needed. By his estimation, they would be able to escape in fourteen hours and thirty-three minutes. It should be enough time to get out, find Jim, and get a hold of their crew trapped in the sky to take down Wolff.

But it was already far too late for any of them to be able to stop the wheels from turning.

* * *

><p>The leaves rustled quietly, providing the perfect cover as Jim and Chekov crouched at the edge of the castle's clearing. It was quiet and there were barely any signs of human life outside of the castle walls, but Jim wasn't there to case out the manpower. He had already done that with Thea earlier; he was here now to finally make his first move with his Queen piece.<p>

He had brought Chekov to the specific weak points of the castle. They had behind their marks as they circled the castle before returning to the cover of the forest. The first trap in Jim's complicated plan had been set, and now it was up to the young Russian to finish the last touches.

Jim glanced over at Chekov. The Navigator was silently and determinedly memorizing all the possible details that he needed while he muttered under his breath and worked on the circuit board that he had brought with him. Jim's hand palmed the handheld jamming device that he had created back in the cave, reassuring himself for the hundredth time that it was working. At this point in the game, he couldn't afford to lose his trump card and have Wolff know that Chekov was with him.

He had somewhat suspected that Wolff and Greenaway would be paranoid little bastards and place cameras throughout the woods surrounding their stronghold. Being seen was always part of his plan – he needed Wolff to know that he was still alive – but he hadn't accounted the impact that Thea would have left.

Why the hell was Wolff so interested in Thea? Did he see Thea as a new weapon against Jim? Or was there something deeper? Jim couldn't stop thinking about it. A gut feeling said that Wolff's interest in Thea was linked to the children that they had kidnapped, but there was something big missing. Something huge, and Jim couldn't figure it out without all the facts.

His gut wrenched with unease. An ominous feeling settled heavily on his stomach, almost winding him with how fast it set in.

"Keptin?" Chekov asked quietly.

Chekov's call snapped Jim out of his deep thoughts and he glanced over to see Chekov looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern in his expressions.

"Yeah, Chekov?" he replied breathlessly.

"Everything all right?"

Jim frowned. "I don't know."

Instantly, Chekov was on guard and he scanned their surroundings, even though he was sure that Jim had already done it at least one time for every second that they were still out in the open. "What is it, Keptin?"

"Something's wrong." Every single instinct in his body was screaming at him, but he didn't know if it was because they were in danger or if the kids were. Either or, Jim wasn't risking it. "You done? Let's go back. Now."

Chekov nodded and immediately shoved his circuit board into Jim's backpack. Jim wasted no time and shouldered it, and like shadows, the two blended back into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Thea's quiet song echoed in the cave, lulling the children curled around her into a calm sleep. She smiled softly as she played with Lisa's ginger hair with her right hand. Danny and Eric laid by her left side, their small hands clutching onto her pants. She spared a glance upwards towards the cave entrance, checking to see if Liam and Tommy had come back from getting water.<p>

She felt the urge to reach for her bow, which laid not too far from her, and go looking for her brother and Tommy, but this was a routine mission. Liam was old enough and had gone out with Thea so many times to know how to go through the woods undetected. Besides, Thea's headache had kept her from leaving earlier. After sitting quietly in the relative dimness of the cave, the throbbing had gone down and she could feel all her muscles relaxing in the absence of the pain.

The sounds of quick footsteps and heavy panting reached Thea's ears. Instantly, she was on guard, drawing her kids closer to her while grabbing for her bow at the same time. Her face twisted into a snarl as her body posed defensively around the kids, like a mother bear protecting her cubs.

Liam dragging Tommy into the cave was not something that she had expected, and the sheer panic on their faces kept Thea on guard.

"What happened?" she demanded immediately. "Are you guys hurt?"

"Guards…" Liam gasped out, trying hard to catch his breath. "We saw them, not too far from here. They were heading towards us!"

Thea sprang to her feet, a pang of guilt hitting her as Lisa, Eric, and Danny woke up with her sudden movement. "Did they see you?"

Liam shook his head. "No, but it won't take long for them to find us. What should we do? Should we run?"

A million thoughts rushed through Thea's mind. She had two choices: to flee or to fight. It was basic evolutionary biology. If they ran, Thea had no doubt that they would be found even faster. With Lisa, Eric, and Tommy so young, they wouldn't be able to travel too far. Liam and she could carry them, but they couldn't guarantee that the children would stay quiet the entire time. And there was the uncertainty of finding new shelter that was safe and hidden.

That left her with only one option: to fight.

"How many guards did you see, Liam?"

"There were eight. All armed."

She slipped on her cache of arrows, her bow already in her hand. "I'm going to draw them away from here. You stay here, Liam. Take care of the kids."

Liam stepped in front of Thea, his arms spread out. "Thea, it's too dangerous! I can't let you go!"

"You'll have to, Liam. You remember our deal. I get to live my life how I want, remember? And I choose to go. For you. For Lisa, Eric, Tommy, and Danny. I have to go."

"Promise that you'll come back then."

Thea gave him a sad smile. "You know I can't make that promise. I haven't been able to make that promise for a while now."

"What about Captain Kirk? He should be returning soon! Why don't we wait for him?"

"We can't! There's not enough time!"

"He's the one they want! Why should you have to go out in his place?!"

Thea was momentarily floored. "You're willing to sacrifice him? He's trying to save you!"

"But he's not my sister! You are! Forgive me if I care more for you than him!"

"He's your _best_ chance at surviving, Liam, not me!"

"I don't care!"

"Well, I do! Between the two of us, you know who has the better chance of living through this. I made a promise to our parents, Liam. I don't plan on breaking it."

Liam's eyes teared up and his entire face contorted with guilt and sorrow. "I can't lose you too. You're my sister! I'll do anything if it'll keep you safe!"

She smiled sadly, "I know. But you know that being safe was never an option for me, Liam. I'm on borrowed time." Thea stepped forward, hugging Liam tightly, trying to send all her love for him through the single action. "I love you, little brother. Please. Stay safe. For me."

After a full minute, she released him and determination made her posture hard, like an Amazonian warrior. She turned, steel in her eyes, and took off running, away from the comfort and safety of the cave.

It couldn't have been more than one hundred feet before she heard the voices of the soldiers. Damn. They really were far too close for comfort.

The chatter was loud and obnoxious. Laughter at some joke reached the air. It was obvious that they didn't have a care in the world. Here they were, tasked to hunt down some innocent, starving children who barely had the strength to survive, let alone defend themselves, and they were so unconcerned, so confident in themselves, that they acted like they were at a party.

Anger rushed through her, making her fingers clench around her bow so tightly that the wood felt like it was about break any second. How dare they be so callous and nonchalant about killing kids?! Kids! But some logical part of her brain kept running, completely inhibited by the feel of fire coursing through.

There was a reason why these men were carefree. They were fully grown men who had guns or knives, or whatever else on their person. An average human being wouldn't stand a chance against them, let alone children. Let alone her.

Fear almost froze her. Could she do it? She had nothing – no strength, no real skills, and she had never used her bow and arrows against another _human_ before. She was weak; her body sickened by starvation and exposure to the elements for so very long.

The sheer, overwhelming sense of terror made her knees buckle and she almost collapsed right then and there. A vicious throb attacked her mind, the headache from before roaring back into existence.

She closed her eyes, swaying in place for a brief second, just wishing that her little brother was with her, running his gentle fingers through her hair and caressing her head to ease the pain, even if just a little. She wished she was back in the cave, seeing the trusting and loving gaze of her kids as they gathered around her.

Resolution struck her again. Her kids and her brother were why she was here, defying Greenaway and his men to her last breath. She couldn't fail them now.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated. Using her desperate desire to protect her brother and her kids forcibly clamped down on her fears, and she grimly shouldered on.

There was no room for her folly. There was only the task at hand.

Snapping into action, she leapt out of hiding and she yelled, "Hey, you buffoons! I'm over here! Come at me, if you can, you stupid gorillas!"

She immediately ducked as a gunshot rang over her head. In the same movement, she turned tail and sprinted in the opposite direction of where her kids were. She side-stepped trees, pausing every now and then to shoot off an arrow at the guards. She missed every time, but she got some close shots. And she was getting closer each time.

She didn't know what frightened her more – the men closing in or the fact that _she_ was getting closer. It was one thing to kill game for food to feed her children, but killing another human in cold blood?

She didn't know which would kill her first – that or the soldiers.

* * *

><p>The woods were silent when Jim and Chekov returned to the cave, but Jim knew that the quietness was misleading. At times, it could feel calming, but this...This felt like the calm before the storm.<p>

Getting closer, Jim could see a single set of footprints leading away from the entrance. They were fresh and the gap between the small prints grew larger and larger as they get further away from the cave – someone had run out in a hurry. But there were no footsteps to indicate that they had come back. The heavy feeling in Jim's gut solidified more.

With his chest feeling tight, Jim burst into the cave. Immediately, his blue eyes scanned all the children. He accounted for all but one.

His heart sank.

His attention locked onto Liam who had jumped towards him with sheer panic and fear in his expressions. "Where's Thea?" Jim breathed out.

Liam's words were shrill and rushed. A wild look entered his eyes. "Soldiers came while you were gone! I don't know how they found us! We did what you said and stayed quiet, but we heard them coming closer. Thea...you have to go save her!"

Jim swore under his breath. Those footsteps that had run away from the one place that was supposedly safe – it belonged to Thea. "She ran, didn't she? To distract the soldiers away from the kids?"

He had done the same that last night of his relative freedom on Tarsus. But he had been caught. He couldn't let the same thing happen to Thea. He _had _to save her.

"Which direction did she run, Liam? And how long has it been since she's run?" he said, his voice raising unbidden in volume. "Tell me now!"

"To the west. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes!" Liam's fists grasped Jim's shirt. Tears were tricking down his cheek. Jim couldn't tell if it was more from fear or anger at being so utterly helpless. Jim had been there too. He knew exactly what was running through Liam's mind.

"You have to save her!" Liam pleaded. "Please!"

Jim, as adrenaline-driven as he was, gently reached down and pulled Liam's hands away from him. "I will. I promise," he said softly. Then steel entered his eyes. "Stay here. Don't follow me. I'll go after your sister," Jim commanded, turning on his heel to face Chekov.

He swung his bag around and rummaged through it quickly, pulling out that phaser that he had stolen and pressed it into Chekov's hand, knowing full well that Chekov had limited skills with archaic guns, and he needed to be able to defend these kids if more soldiers came searching for them. "Chekov, keep them safe."

And then he was running.

"Be careful, Keptin!" Chekov called out, but Jim was already gone, sprinting into the depth of the forest.

He pushed his body to its limits, running as quick as he could while tracking Thea. For a while, all he saw was her footsteps and a few strands of hair that had gotten snagged in her haste, but a couple of hundreds of yards into her path, she was accompanied by cracked branches and footsteps of the bumbling soldiers.

The sight of it forced Jim to run faster. He didn't even care if he remained unnoticed anymore.

He just had to get to Thea.

* * *

><p>Thea kept moving, dodging, running, scampering like a hunted rabbit, her black hair getting caught on some branches as she kept going. She had to keep them away from Liam and her kids. Her chest started to burn, her lungs pleading for her to stop moving. She ignored it; she couldn't afford to listen.<p>

But sometimes, fate wasn't kind. Fate was cruel and unforgiving.

A bullet pinged over Thea's ear. Her body flinched on instinct, and in that momentary pause, one of the soldiers struck true. Thea let out a scream as a bullet buried itself into her right calf, making her crash to the ground, her bow escaping from her grasp, falling just out of her reach.

"We got her!" shouted a soldier.

Thea whimpered, crawling towards a tree to pull herself upwards. Even if she had no chance, she wasn't giving up without a fight.

This was going to be her last stand.

She leaned against the trunk and notched an arrow against her bow. Exhaling, she pulled the string back and waited for the soldiers to arrive.

Another shot rang out and she gasped out in pain as her bow was ripped from her hands by the bullet. It had grazed her skin, and blood started dripping onto the ground.

Footsteps came to a stop a small distance away from her, and heard one of the men sneer at her. "Well, well. Lookie at what we have here. It's one of them kids that escaped."

There was a low whistle. "She's a pretty one."

Thea flinched, pulling back to press against the tree trunk. She looked up and saw eight men – just as Liam had said – leering at her. They were all plain and unassuming, which was unsurprising considering that they were mere foot soldiers, but they were carrying heavy weaponry.

The two men in front of her – probably the ones in charge of their mission – were each holding Glocks; the others had smaller 9mm handguns. Thea only recognized the types of guns because she had heard Jim mumble to himself when he had gone through the inventory that she had stolen.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"So, what's your name, little girl?" asked one of the lead soldiers with a lewd grin on his face.

Thea remained defiantly reticent.

The soldiers laughed. "She's a feisty one, I can just tell."

"What should we do with her?"

"Greenaway said to bring all the kids that we find to him."

"But he never said that we couldn't have a little fun before, right?"

One the men laughed and nudged his comrade. "Well, we _do_ have to make her tell us where she's hiding the rest of the kids."

Something akin to lightning ran through Thea and she couldn't help herself. "How did you know about them?!" she demanded.

"Ah, so there were others. Wasn't one-hundred percent sure on that." The other leader took a threatening step forward. "Why don't you tell us where they are and _maybe_ we leave you only slightly bruised?"

Like a feral dog being backed in a corner, Thea just snarled back, her entire small body quivering with anger. "Over my dead body, you fuckers."

All eight men now had matching grins.

"That can be arranged." He raised his gun to point at Thea's face.

She didn't even flinch. Her black-brown eyes strong and unrelenting.

A shot rang out.

Shock spread across her face. The soldiers' expressions matched hers, save for one, who fell to the forest floor, dead with a bullet hole in the back of his head.

"Don't you fucking touch her," a cold and furious voice echoed around them, just _dripping_ with pure venom. It was a voice that the entire universe had come to fear – it sent shivers down people's spines and threatened, no, _promised_ that hellfire was coming to burn them all alive.

Slowly, the soldiers turned, and standing several feet away from there was Captain James T. Kirk with a wild look in his expressions. There was a six-chambered revolver in his unwavering hand. Bloodlust rolled off him in waves, making the men instinctively desperately afraid for their lives. Before Jim Kirk, they were mere ants under his boots. Like the animals they were, their bodies started prepping to flee, if only to ensure their survival.

But underneath all the bravado, all that anger, Thea could see Jim's exhaustion. His chest was heaving from his desperate sprint to reach her. His body was still bruised and probably still aching from the crash. Not the mention that he had had an awful concussion prior to all of this. There was no way that he could be standing before them all like it was nothing. He was good at hiding it all though. Through his entire time with Thea and the kids, it didn't seem like there was a single thing wrong with him. She had a feeling that it was second nature for Jim to hide all his pain and fears to the world. Of course he would, what with the heavy burdens on his shoulders. The moment he showed weakness was the moment he got buried underneath it all.

Jim may be strong and he may have a ridiculous number of skills that Thea never knew about, but she knew, that after everything, Jim was probably greatly weakened. There were still seven men left, and Thea knew that he had, at most, five more bullets left in that revolver of his. She didn't know if she had another weapon on hand or if he had time to grab anything out of his backpack that was still firmly hanging from his shoulders. Was he even physically able to take the last two men down before they got off a good shot and injured him? She didn't know, and she couldn't have that.

Despite her own desire to survive and see her little brother again, she hadn't been lying when she said that Jim was her brother's best chance at living. She had to protect that at all costs.

Once the leaders got over their initial shock, they seemed to grow a backbone, which helped calm their men.

"Captain Kirk, how nice to see you here," said one of them. "Captain Wolff mentioned that you were still alive. I think we're going to be highly promoted if we bring him your head."

Jim was unfazed. "You're welcome to try, but never underestimate your opponent. It's my third rule."

"There are seven of us left." Ah, so the men had done the same math as Thea. "You may take down most of us, but there will be enough of us left to bring your head to Wolff. I don't think you'll be able to win, Captain."

"Well, luckily for you, you won't get the chance to find out if you're right."

A flash of grey entered Jim's eyes and his entire body sprang into action, even as his finger pressed the trigger. In rapid succession, Jim fired two bullets, hitting two of the men in the chest. They didn't even have the time to raise their guns before they were dead.

The other five men had quicker reaction time and lifted their own guns, firing at Jim as fast as they could while they, themselves, scampered to find shelter behind trees, forcing Jim to duck behind one as well. Jim poked his head out once and assessed the locations of all the men in a split second. His blue eyes slipped over to Thea, connecting with her and praying that she could understand his silent message to run, but his attention on her was short-lived. His focus immediately shifted back to his opponents.

Calculations ran through his mind. He was still just so damn relieved that he had gotten to Thea in time, but he had definitely pushed his body too hard to do so. The aching and soreness had come back with a vengeance. He was good at shoving that all down and completely ignoring it. But even if he did, it didn't change the fact that he was at a huge disadvantage. Damn it. He wished he had that phaser with him, not that he regretted his choice to leave it with Chekov. But that left him with three bullets and the knife that he had hidden in his boot.

Amidst the continuous rain of bullets, he risked another cursory survey of his surroundings, glancing over at Thea to make sure that she had escaped, but instead, she was reaching for her bow surreptitiously. Jim could see blood dripping down her shaking hand, and he instantly realized what had happened to her and what she was planning on doing, despite her injury.

Shit. She was going to stand and fight with him. He closed his eyes in defeat. Of course she would fight. She was a strong one, and like Jim, would have never let anyone fight her battles for her. He remembered the scuffles and brawls he had back on Tarsus, putting everything he had into each fight, thinking that it was his last.

It was a dangerous thing to do – to fight when you had nothing to lose. And right now? Thea was just that. She would give _anything_ to save her kids.

Jim couldn't have that. He had to act before she could.

All his plans flew out the window and he didn't think anymore. Sometimes, all that was left was to rely on instinct.

In one smooth movement, Jim bent, grabbed his knife, and stepped out of hiding, raising his gun. He fired once, hitting one of the men in his foot. The man screamed and fell over, clutching his injured appendage. The scream was cut short as Jim buried a bullet into his temple.

Without hesitation and moving so fast that the men could barely react to him, Jim descended upon them like a swarm of locusts. He ducked quickly, reading the bullets' path by the way the guns were being held by the soldiers. The two that had Glocks had a larger recoil than the ones with the handguns and would take more time to adjust their aim – about 0.4 seconds more. One tended to tilt a bit more to the right while the other was off by a centimeters down. The handguns were a bit more problematic with better accuracy due to their smaller size. Clearly, the men had had training in sharpshooting, but they only had about fifteen to seventeen rounds, and they were rapidly emptying their clips.

It was a dance – a graceful and deadly one that Jim was _extremely_ gifted at. His speed at side-stepping and ducking was outstanding. And his aim? Even better.

He took out one of the leaders next – those Glocks posed the greatest threat – with his last bullet, which struck the man in his chest. It took him some time to die, but he was no longer on Jim's radar.

Jim slunk around another tree and emerged like a shotgun, launching himself at the closest man while throwing his empty gun at another. It bounced harmlessly off his chest, as Jim had expected, but he was more focused on the soldier that he had literally caught. He got his arms around his neck and jerked at just the right position. He heard the crack. Some tiny part of him cringed at the sound, but held onto the body, using it as a shield. The impact of the three bullets still made Jim back a couple of feet and drop the man in his arms, but not before he flung his knife at another man.

With a sinking heart, he realized that it hadn't been a kill-shot. His balance was off and he missed by a couple of inches. He hadn't hit the chest, as he had hoped – he had instead grazed the soldier on the arm, and the wrong one at that. It was a deep cut, but his gun arm was still unhindered.

The gun rose and the completely unarmed Jim was too far away from anything that could remotely act as cover.

"Jim!" Thea cried out.

An arrow whizzed past one of the two remaining men, landing by Jim's arm. All three men lifted their heads to see Thea standing a few trees away, her bow still in place with another arrow already notched. In her current position, she and Jim were literally sandwiching the two men. More importantly, she had given Jim a weapon.

"Put down your guns, or I'll shoot you in the eye," Thea warned, providing Jim the distraction he need to wrench the arrow out of the ground.

He leapt to his feet, and Thea and he acted simultaneously. Jim sprang forward, closing the distance in seconds, and plunging the arrow into the back of a soldier's neck. At the same exact moment, Thea sent an arrow flying at the other man, striking him in the shoulder and forcing him into Jim's range.

In that split second before Jim tackled him to the floor and punched his larynx so hard that his trachea collapsed. The soldier knew exactly what laid before him – he was going to suffocate. He knew he was going to die, but if he must, he wasn't going alone.

When Jim's full momentum sent them on a downwards trajectory, he tilted his gun and fired. It was his last act in this world, and it had the most damaging and absolutely devastating consequences that anyone could have possibly imagine.

Panting heavily, Jim remained sitting on the suffocating man while he regained his bearings. He watched the last of the soldiers claw at his throat, the pleas and fears screaming in his eyes, with such cold apathy.

"Jim…"

Jim's head snapped up at the sound of Thea's extremely weak voice. What he saw would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

She was leaning heavily against the trunk of a tree, her hands pressed against her abdomen. The bow and arrows had fallen to the ground, forgotten. Blood was slowly seeping through her pale fingers as she looked up at Jim, her expressions completely blank, as if she didn't believe what had just happened.

Horror struck Jim so hard that it almost knocked him off his feet.

"Thea!" He rushed to her, just as she started to collapse.

Skidding, he caught her just before she hit the ground. He shifted, essentially holding her on her lap with one arm supporting her back and the other pulling his backpack off to grab his leather jacket – the same one that, not so long ago, she had been using as a blanket. He pressed it hard against Thea's gunshot wound, eliciting a small groan of pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jim rushed out breathlessly. "You're going to be fine, Thea. I'm going to get you some help. I promise, you're going to be fine." But even as he spoke, he could feel her blood soaking into his coat – her life fading away with each second.

Thea, her white face completely stark against the blood on her hands, chuckled as one of her shaking hands reached up to touch his cheek. "D-don't make promises…you can't keep," she managed to get out through her struggle to breathe.

Tears overflowed his blue eyes and started dripping down, the drops landing on Thea's already unfeeling cheeks. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I promised that I'd save you," he cried softly. "I'm sorry!"

Thea blinked slowly and a smile graced her beautiful face. "You did. You…you may not understand that," she breathed, "But you did. You saved me."

She gasped, her back arching in pain as it lanced through her. Blindly, her hands reached upwards, towards the blue sky. It was beautiful, swallowing her and all her pain. There was a light in the distance that she could barely make it, growing ever stronger and closer.

Jim had been around death so many times that he could recognize the signs like he knew his own name. Choking out a quiet sob, Jim let go of his hold on his jacket and Thea's wound, and instead, held onto Thea's outstretched hand and pressed it against his cheek.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" he repeated over and over again, his words breaking as his soul faded with Thea.

"S-save Liam and…the others. P-promise me you'll save them."

Jim nodded against her hand, pressing it to his lips and kissed her cold hand. "Yes. Yes, I promise. On my life, I'll save them and keep them safe."

She smiled. "I know you will." The light was getting closer. "T-thank you, Jim." Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes. "Thank you…"

She exhaled one more time. And then her eyes saw no more.

Her bloodied hand slipped from Jim's and she lay limp in Jim's arms.

"Thea?" Jim softly called out, his heart-breaking when he saw that she was gone.

Shaking like a leaf in a gale, Jim slowly reached forward with the hand that had held hers a moment ago and gently closed her eyes. Even in death, she was beautiful, like Snow White, with her pale features and raven-black hair. She had been too young, lost too soon.

And all because of him. All because he wasn't strong enough to protect her.

Jim leaned down and kissed her forehead before lifting her head with his left arm and her torso with his right, hugging her tightly against his chest as he openly sobbed. His body rocked as his grief completely overtook him.

He let out a heart-wrenching scream that echoed through the woods, letting everything and everyone that heard know of what the world had lost.

His cry faded away in the emptiness, leaving Jim alone as his soul completely and utterly shattered into nothingness.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

* * *

><p>...Please don't hate me for how this chapter ended? I'm working on the next one and am halfway through, but still working on it so I can't guarantee an update date. Yes, I know. I'm an evil child. Sorry. Feels like my stories are turning darker and darker...But there's a reason for it! I swear! You shall see sooner or later.<p>

Anyway, as always, please review! (And don't hate me!)

Happy New Year's, my lovely readers! Hope you have a great year!

Cheers,

Yuna


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